IN  THE  SWEET 
DRY  AND  DRY 


CHRISTOPHER  MORLEY 
BART  HALEY 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 


HE  WAVED  AN  ENCOURAGING  ARM 
OVER  THE  CRYSTALS.  "WITH  THE 
COMPLIMENTS  OF  THE  CORPORA 
TION,'!  HE  REPEATED. 


IN  THE 
SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 


BY 

CHRISTOPHER  MORLEY 

AND 

BART  HALEY 


ILLUSTRATED   BT 

GLUYAS  WILLIAMS 


BONI  AND    LIVERIGHT 
NEW  YORK  19*9 


COPYEIGHT,  1919, 

BY  BONI  &  LIVERIGHT,  INC. 
All  Rights  Reserved 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


DEDICATED  TO 

G.  K.  CHESTERTON 

MOST  DELIGHTFUL  OF  MODERN 
DECANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 


M531663 


FOREWORD 

AS  far  as  this  book  is  concerned,  the 
public  may  Take  It,  or  the  public  may 
Let  It  Alone.  But  the  authors  feel  it 
their  duty  to  say  that  no  deductions  as  to  their 
own  private  habits  are  to  be  made  from  the 
story  here  offered.  With  its  composition  they 
have  beguiled  the  moments  of  the  valley  of  the 
shadow. 

Acknowledgement  should  be  made  to  the 
Evening  Public  Ledger  of  Philadelphia  for  per 
mission  to  reprint  the  ditty  included  in  Chapter 
VI. 

The  public  will  forgive  this  being  only  a 
brief  preface,  for  at  the  moment  of  writing  the 
time  is  short.  Wishing  you  a  Merry  Absti 
nence,  and  looking  forward  to  meeting  you 
some  day  in  Europe, 

CHRISTOPHER  MORLEY, 
BART   HALEY. 

Philadelphia, 

Ten  minutes  before  Midnight,  June  30,  /pip. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


PAGE 


I.  MYSTERY  OF  THE  UNEXPECTED  JULEP      .  9 

II.  THE  HOUSE  ON  CARAWAY  STREET      .  17 

III.  INCIDENT  OF  THE  GOOSEBERRY  BOMBS     .  37 

IV.  THE  GREAT  WAR  BEGINS 52 

V.  THE  TREACHERY  OF  Miss  CHUFF       .     .  70 

VI.  DEPARTED  SPIRITS 87 

VII.  THE  DECANTERBURY  PILGRIMS      .     .     .  104 

VIII.  WITH  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY       .     .     .     .  120 

IX.  THE  ELECTION 133 

X.  E  PLURIBUS  UNUM 146 

XI.  IT'S  A  LONG  WORM  THAT  HAS  No  TURN 
ING  164 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

He  waved  an  encouraging  arm  over  the  crystals. 
"With  the  compliments  of  the  Corporation,'* 
he  repeated Frontispiece 


JACIWO 
PAGE 


"  Hush, ' '  said  Quimbleton  nervously.  ' '  Some  one 
may  be  watching  us.  You  see  I  water  the 
flowers  with  champagne" 22 

A  sullen  murmur  arose  when  the  messages  were 
read 40 

The  chuffs  were  ruthless  once  their  passions  were 

aroused 64 

With  Bleak  playing  the  r61e  of  customer,  he  then 
went  through  a  pantomime  of  serving  im 
aginary  drinks 96 

They  led  a  nomad  existence  for  weeks      .     .     .     106 

"This  is  no  time  for  jest/'  said  the  Bishop 
angrily.     "Remember,  I  shall  be  pitiless.".      .     126 

"But  this  is  a  grand  job,"  said  Jerry.     "Govern 
ment  service,  you  see." 154 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 


IN  THE 
SWEET   DRY   AND   DRY 

CHAPTER  I 

MYSTERY  OF  THE  UNEXPECTED  JULEP 

DUNRAVEN  BLEAK,  the  managing 
editor  of  The  Evening  Balloon,  sat  at 
his  desk  in  the  center  of  the  local- 
room,  under  a  furious  cone  of  electric  light. 
It  was  six  o'clock  of  a  warm  summer  after 
noon  :  he  was  filling  his  pipe  and  turning  over 
the  pages  of  the  Final  edition  of  the  paper, 
iwhich  had  just  come  up  from  the  press-room. 
After  the  turmoil  of  the  day  the  room  had 
quieted,  most  of  the  reporters  had  left,  and  the 
shaded  lamps  shone  upon  empty  tables  and  a 
floor  strewn  ankle-deep  with  papers.  Nearby 
sat  the  city  editor,  checking  over  the  list  of  as- 
.signments  for  the  next  morning.  From  an  ad 
joining  kennel  issued  occasional  deep  groans 
and  a  strong  whiff  of  savage  shag  tobacco, 

,9 


io  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

blown  outward  by  the  droning  gust  of  an  elec 
tric  fan.  These  proved  that  the  cartoonist  (a 
man  whose  sprightly  drawings  were  born  to  an 
obbligato  of  vehement  blasphemy)  was  at 
work  within. 

Mr.  Bleak  was  just  beginning  to  recuperate 
from  the  incessant  vigilance  of  the  day's  work. 
There  was  an  unconscious  pathos  in  his  lean, 
desiccated  figure  as  he  rose  and  crossed  the 
room  to  the  green  glass  drinking-fountain. 
After  the  custom  of  experienced  newspaper 
men,  he  rapidly  twirled  a  makeshift  cup  out  of 
a  sheet  of  copy  paper.  He  poured  himself  a 
draught  of  clear  but  rather  tepid  water,  and 
drank  it  without  noticeable  relish.  His  lifted 
head  betrayed  only  the  automatic  thankfulness 
of  the  domestic  fowl.  There  had  been  a  time 
when  six  o'clock  meant  something  better  than 
a  paper  goblet  of  lukewarm  filtration. 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk  again.  He  had 
loaded  his  pipe  sedulously  with  an  extra  fine 
blend  which  he  kept  in  his  desk  drawer  for 
smoking  during  rare  moments  of  relaxation 
when  he  had  leisure  to  savor  it.  As  he  reached 
for  a  match  he  was  meditating  a  genial  remark 
to  the  city  editor,  when  he  discovered  that  there 
was  only  one  tandsticker  in  the  box.  He  struck 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  *i 

t,  and  the  blazing  head  flew  off  upon  the  cream- 
colored  thigh  of  his  Palm  Beach  suit.  His 
naturally  placid  temper,  undermined  by  thirty 
years  of  newspaper  work  and  two  years  of  pro 
hibition,  flamed  up  also.  With  a  loud  scream 
of  rage  and  a  curse  against  Sweden,  he  leaped 
to  his  feet  and  shook  the  glowing  cinder  from 
his  person.  Facing  him  he  found  a  stranger 
who  had  entered  the  room  quietly  and  unob 
served. 

This  was  a  huge  man,  clad  in  a  sober  uni 
form  of  gray  cloth,  with  silver  buttons  and 
silver  braid.  A  Sam  Browne  belt  of  wide  blue 
leather  marched  across  his  extensive  diagonal 
in  a  gentle  curve.  The  band  of  his  vizored 
military  cap  showed  the  initials  C.  P.  H.  in 
silver  embroidery.  His  face,  broad  and  clean 
shaven,  shone  with  a  lustre  which  was  partly 
warmth  and  partly  simple  friendliness.  Save 
[for  a  certain  humility  of  bearing,  he  might  have 
been  taken  for  the  liveried  door-man  of  a  mov 
ing-picture  theater  or  exclusive  millinery  shop. 
In  one  hand  he  carried  a  very  large  black 
leather  suit-case. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Bleak?"  he  asked  politely. 

"Yes,"  said  the  editor,  in  surprise.  His  se 
cret  surmise  was  that  some  one  had  died  and 


12  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

left  him  a  legacy  which  would  enable  him  to 
retire  from  newspaper  work.  (This  is  the 
unacknowledged  dream  that  haunts  many  jour 
nalists.)  Mr.  Bleak  was  wondering  whether 
this  was  the  way  in  which  legacies  were  an 
nounced. 

The  man  in  the  gray  uniform  set  the  bag 
down  with  great  care  on  the  large  flat  desk. 
He  drew  out  a  key  and  unlocked  it.  Before 
opening  it  he  looked  round  the  room.  The 
city  editor  and  three  reporters  were  watching 
curiously.  A  shy  gayety  twinkled  in  his  clear 
blue  eyes. 

"Mr.  Bleak,"  he  said,  "you  and  these  other 
gentlemen  present  are  men  of  discretion ?" 

Bleak  made  a  gesture  of  reassurance. 

The  other  leaned  over  the  suit-case  and  lifted 
the  lid. 

The  bag  was  divided  into  several  compart 
ments.  In  one,  the  startled  editor  beheld  a 
nest  of  tall  glasses ;  in  another,  a  number  of  in 
teresting  flasks  lying  in  a  porcelain  container 
among  chipped  ice.  In  the  lid  was  an  array 
of  straws,  napkins,  a  flat  tray  labeled  Cloves, 
and  a  bunch  of  what  looked  uncommonly  like 
mint  leaves.  Mr.  Bleak  did  not  speak,  but  his 
pulse  was  disorderly. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  13 

The  man  in  gray  drew  out  five  tumblers  and 
placed  them  on  the  desk.  Rapidly  several  bot 
tles  caught  the  light:  there  was  a  gesture  of 
pouring,  a  clink  of  ice,  and  beneath  the  spell 
bound  gaze  of  the  watchers  the  glasses  fumed 
and  bubbled  with  a  volatile  potion.  A  glass 
mixing  rod  tinkled  in  the  thin  crystal  shells, 
and  the  man  of  mystery  deftly  thrust  a  clump 
of  foliage  into  each.  A  well  known  fragrance 
exhaled  upon  the  tobacco-thickened  air. 

"Shades  of  the  Grail !"  cried  Bleak.  "Mint 
julep!" 

The  visitor  bowed  and  pushed  the  glasses 
forward.  "With  the  compliments  of  the  Cor 
poration,"  he  said. 

The  city  editor  sprang  to  his  feet.  Sagely 
cynical,  he  suspected  a  ruse. 

"It's  a  plant!"  he  exclaimed.  "Don't  touch 
it !  It's  a  trick  on  the  part  of  the  Department 
of  Justice,  trying  to  get  us  into  trouble." 

Bleak  gazed  angrily  at  the  stranger.  If  this 
was  indeed  a  federal  stratagem,  what  an  in 
tolerably  cruel  one !  In  front  of  him  the  glasses 
sparkled  alluringly:  a  delicate  mist  gathered 
on  their  ice-chilled  curves :  a  pungent  sweetness 
wavered  in  his  nostrils. 

"See  here!"  he  blurted  with  shrill  excite- 


14  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

ment.  "Are  you  a  damned  government  agent? 
If  so,  take  your  poison  and  get  out." 

The  tall  stranger  in  his  impressive  uniform 
stood  erect  and  unabashed.  With  affectionate 
care  he  gave  the  tumblers  a  final  musical  stir. 

"O  ye  of  little  faith!"  he  said  calmly.  The 
sadness  of  the  misunderstood  idealist  grieved 
his  features.  "Have  you  forgotten  the  miracle 
of  Cana  ?"  From  his  pocket  he  took  a  card  and 
laid  it  on  the  desk. 

Bleak  seized  it.    It  said : 


THE  CORPORATION  FOR  THE 
PERPETUATION  OF  HAPPINESS 

1316  Caraway  Street 

Virgil  Quimbleton,  Associate  Director 


He  stared  at  the  pasteboard,  stupefied,  and 
handed  it  to  the  city  editor. 

Meanwhile  the  three  reporters  had  drawn 
near.  Light-hearted  and  irresponsible  souls, 
tinoppressed  by  the  embittered  suspicion  of 
their  superiors,  they  nosed  the  floating  aroma 
with  candid  hilarity. 

"The  breath  of  Eden!"  said  one. 

"It's  a  warm  evening,"  remarked  another, 
with  seeming  irrelevance. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  15 

The  face  of  Virgil  Quimbleton,  the  man  in 
gray,  relaxed  again  at  these  marks  of  honest 
appreciation.  He  waved  an  encouraging  arm 
over  the  crystals.  "With  the  compliments  of 
the  Corporation,"  he  repeated. 

Bleak  and  the  city  editor  looked  again  at  the 
card,  and  at  each  other.  They  scanned  the  face 
of  their  mysterious  benefactor.  Bleak's  hand 
went  out  to  the  nearest  glass.  He  raised  it  to 
his  lips.  An  almost- forgotten  formula  re 
curred  to  him.  "Down  the  rat-hole !"  he  cried, 
and  tilted  his  arm.  The  others  followed  suit, 
and  the  associate  director  watched  them  with 
a  glow  of  perfect  altruism. 

The  glasses  were  still  in  air  when  the  car 
toonist  emerged  from  his  room.  "Holy  cat!"1 
he  cried  in  amazement.  "What's  going  on?" 
He  seized  one  of  the  empty  vessels  and  sniffed 
it. 

"Treason!"  he  exclaimed.  "Who's  been 
robbing  the  mint?" 

"Maybe  you  can  have  one  too,"  said  Bleak, 
and  turned  to  where  Quimbleton  had  been 
standing.  But  the  mysterious  visitor  had  left 
the  room. 

"You're  too  late,  Bill,"  said  the  city  editor 


16  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

genially.  "There  was  a  kind  of  Messiah  here, 
but  he's  gone.  Tough  luck." 

"Say,  boss,"  suggested  one  of  the  reporters. 
"There's  a  story  in  this.  May  I  interview  that 
guy?" 

Bleak  picked  up  the  card  and  put  it  in  his 
pocket.  A  heavenly  warmth  pervaded  his  men 
tal  fabric.  "A  story?"  he  said.  "Forget  it! 
This  is  no  story.  It's  a  legend  of  the  dear  dead 
past.  I'll  cover  this  assignment  myself." 

He  borrowed  a  match  and  lit  his  pipe.  Then 
he  put  on  his  coat  and  hat  and  left  the  office. 

It  was  remarked  by  faithful  readers  of  the 
Balloon  that  the  next  day's  cartoon  was  one  of 
the  least  successful  in  the  history  of  that  bril 
liant  newspaper. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  HOUSE  ON  CARAWAY  STREET 

AFTER  telephoning  to  his  wife  that  he 
would  not  be  home  for  supper,  Bleak 
set  out  for  Caraway  Street.  He  was 
in  that  exuberant  mood  discernible  in  com 
muters  unexpectedly  spending  an  evening  in 
town.  Instead  of  hurrying  out  to  the  suburbs 
on  the  6:17  train,  to  mow  the  lawn  and  admire 
the  fireflies,  here  he  was  watching  the  more 
dazzling  fireflies  of  the  city — the  electric  signs 
which  were  already  bulbed  wanly  against  the 
rich  orange  of  the  falling  sun.  He  puffed  his 
pipe  lustily  and  with  a  jaunty  condescension 
watched  the  crowds  thronging  the  drugstores 
for  their  dram  of  ice-cream  soda.  In  his  bosom 
the  secret  julep  tingled  radiantly.  At  that  hour 
of  the  evening  the  shining  bustle  of  the  cen 
tral  streets  was  drawing  the  life  of  the  city  to 
itself.  In  the  residential  by-ways  through 
which  his  route  took  him  the  pavements  were 
nearly  deserted.  A  delicious  sense  of  extrava- 

17 


i8  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRYi 

gant  adventure  possessed  him.  As  a  news 
paper  man,  he  did  not  feel  at  all  sure  that  he 
was  on  the  threshold  of  a  printable  "story"; 
but  as  a  connoisseur  of  juleps  he  felt  that  very 
possibly  he  was  on  the  threshold  of  another 
drink.  Passing  a  line  of  billboards,  he  noticed 
a  brightly  colored  poster  advertising  a  brand  of 
collars.  In  sheer  light-heartedness  he  drew  a 
soft  pencil  from  his  waistcoat  and  adorned  the 
comely  young  man  on  the  collar  poster  with  a 
heavy  mustache. 

Caraway  Street,  with  which  he  had  not  pre 
viously  been  familiar,  proved  to  be  a  quaint 
little  channel  of  old  brick  houses,  leading  into 
the  bonfire  of  the  summer  sunset.  There  was 
nothing  to  distinguish  number  1316  from  its 
neighbors.  He  rang  the  bell,  and  there  ensued 
a  rapid  clicking  in  the  lock,  indicating  that  the 
latch  had  been  released  by  some  one  within. 
He  pushed  the  door  open,  and  entered. 

He  had  a  curious  sensation  of  having 
stepped  into  an  old  Flemish  painting.  The  hall 
in  which  he  stood  was  cool  and  rather  dark, 
though  a  bright  refraction  of  light  tossed  from 
some  upper  window  upon  a  tall  mirror  filled  the 
shadow  with  broken  spangles.  Through  an 
open  doorway  at  the  rear  was  the  green  glim- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  19 

mer  of  a  garden.  In  front  of  him  was  a  ma 
hogany  sideboard.  On  its  polished  top  lay  two 
books,  a  box  of  cigars,  and  a  cut  glass  decanter 
surrounded  by  several  glasses.  In  the  decanter 
was  a  pale  yellow  fluid  which  held  a  beam  of 
light.  The  house  was  completely  silent. 

Somewhat  abashed,  he  removed  his  hat  and 
stood  irresolute,  expecting  some  greeting.  But 
nothing  happened.  On  a  rack  against  the  wall 
he  saw  a  gray  uniform  coat  like  that  which 
Mr.  Quimbleton  had  worn  in  the  Balloon  office, 
and  a  similar  gray  cap  with  the  silver  mono 
gram.  He  glanced  at  the  books.  One  was  The 
Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam,  the  other  was  a 
Bible,  open  at  the  second  chapter  of  John.  He 
(was  looking  curiously  at  the  decanter  when  a 
voice  startled  him. 

"Dandelion  wine !"  it  said.  "Will  you  have 
a  glass  ?" 

He  turned  and  saw  an  old  gentleman  with 
profuse  white  hair  and  beard  tottering  into 
the  hall. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Bleak,"  said  the  latter. 
"I  was  expecting  you." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  the  editor.  *'I 
fear  you  have  the  advantage  of  me — I  was  told 
that  Walt  Whitman  died  in  1892 " 


20  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

"Nonsense !"  wheezed  the  other  with  a  senile 
chuckle.  He  straightened,  ripped  off  his  silver 
fringes,  and  appeared  as  the  stalwart  Quimble- 
ton  himself. 

"Forgive  my  precautions/'  he  said.  "I  am 
surrounded  by  spies.  I  have  to  be  careful. 
Should  some  of  my  enemies  learn  that  old  Mr. 
Monkbones  of  Caraway  Street  is  the  same  as 
Virgil  Quimbleton  of  the  Happiness  Corpora 
tion,  my  life  wouldn't  be  worth — well,  a  glass 
of  gooseberry  brandy.  Speaking  of  that,  Have 
a  little  of  the  dandelion  wine."  He  pointed  to 
the  decanter. 

Bleak  poured  himself  a  glass,  and  watched 
his  host  carefully  resume  the  hoary  wig  and 
whiskers.  They  passed  into  the  garden,  a  quiet 
green  enclosure  surrounded  by  brick  walls  and 
bright  with  hollyhocks  and  other  flowers.  It 
was  overlooked  by  a  quaint  jumble  of  rear 
gables,  tall  chimneys  and  white-shuttered  dor 
mer  windows. 

"Do  you  play  croquet?"  asked  Quimbleton, 
showing  a  neat  pattern  of  white  hoops  fixed  in 
the  shaven  turf.  "If  so,  we  must  have  a  game 
after  supper.  It's  very  agreeable  as  a  quiet 
relaxation." 

Mr.  Bleak  was  still  trying  to  get  his  bearings. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  21 

To  see  this  robust  creature  gravely  counter 
feiting  the  posture  of  extreme  old  age  was  al 
most  too  much  for  his  gravity.  There  was  a 
bizarre  absurdity  in  the  solemn  way  Quimble- 
ton  beamed  out  from  his  frosty  and  fraudulent 
shrubbery.  Something  in  the  air  of  the  gar 
den,  also,  seemed  to  push  Bleak  toward  laugh 
ter.  He  had  that  sensation  which  we  have  all 
experienced — an  unaccountable  desire  to  roar 
with  mirth,  for  no  very  definite  cause.  He 
bit  his  lip,  and  sought  rigorously  for  decorum. 

"Upon  my  soul,"  he  said,  "This  is  the  most 
fragrant  garden  I  ever  smelt.  What  is  that 
delicious  odor  in  the  air,  that  faint  per 
fume ?" 

"That  subtle  sweetness?"  said  Quimbleton, 
with  unexpected  drollery. 

-"Exactly,"  said  Bleak.  "That  abounding 
and  pervasive  aroma " 

"That  delicate  bouquet ?" 

"Quite  so,  that  breath  of  myrrh — — " 

"That  balmy  exhalation — —  ?" 

Bleak  wondered  if  this  was  a  game.  He 
tried  valiantly  to  continue.  "Precisely,"  lie 
said,  "That  quintessence  of " 

He  could  coerce  himself  no  longer,  and  burst 
into  a  yell  of  laughter. 


22  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND 

"Hush !"  said  Quimbleton,  nervously. 
-'Some  one  may  be  watching  us.  But  the  fra 
grance  of  the  garden  is  something  I  am  rather 
proud  of.  You  see,  I  water  the  flowers  with 
champagne/' 

"With  champagne!"  echoed  Bleak.  "Good 
Heavens,  man,  you'll  get  penal  servitude." 

"Nonsense !"  said  Quimbleton.  "The  Eight 
eenth  Amendment  says  that  intoxicating 
liquors  may  not  be  manufactured,  sold  or 
transported  for  beverage  purposes.  Nothing  is 
said  about  using  them  to  irrigate  the  garden.  I 
have  a  friend  who  makes  this  champagne  him 
self  and  gives  me  some  of  it  for  my  rose-beds. 
If  you  spray  the  flowers  with  it,  and  then 
walk  round  and  inhale  them,  you  get  quite 
a  genial  reaction.  I  do  it  principally  to  annoy 
Bishop  Chuff.  You  see,  he  lives  next  door." 

-"Bishop  Chuff  of  the  Pan-Antis?" 

"Yes,"  said  Quimbleton— "but  don't  shout! 
His  garden  adjoins  this.  He  has  a  periscope 
that  overlooks  my  quarters.  That's  why  I 
have  to  wear  this  disguise  in  the  garden.  I 
think  he's  getting  a  bit  suspicious.  I  manage 
to  cause  him  a  good  deal  of  suffering  with  the 
fizz  fumes  from  my  garden.  Jolly  idea,  isn't 
it?" 


n 


n 


m          m 


"HUSH."  SAID  QUIMBLETON  NER 
VOUSLY.  "SOMEONE  MAY  BE  WATCH 
ING  US.  ...  YOU  SEE  I  WATER  THE 
FLOWERS  WITH  CHAMPAGNE." 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  25 

Bleak  was  aghast  at  the  temerity  of  the  man. 
Bishop  Chuff,  the  fanatical  leader  of  the  Anti- 
Everything  League — jocosely  known  as  the 
Pan-Antis — was  the  most  feared  man  in 
America.  It  was  he  whose  untiring  organiza 
tion  had  forced  prohibition  through  the  legis 
latures  of  forty  States — had  closed  the  golf 
links  on  Sundays — had  made  it  a  misdemeanor 
to  be  found  laughing  in  public.  And  here  was 
this  daring  Quimbleton,  living  at  the  very  sill 
of  the  lion's  den. 

"By  means  of  my  disguise,"  whispered 
Quimbleton,  "I  was  able  to  make  a  pleasant 
impression  on  the  Bishop.  One  evening  I  went 
to  call  on  him.  I  took  the  precaution  to  eat  a 
green  persimmon  beforehand,  which  distorted 
my  features  into  such  a  malignant  contraction 
of  pessimism  and  misanthropy  that  I  quite  won 
his  heart.  He  accepted  an  invitation  to  play 
croquet  with  me.  That  afternoon  I  prepared 
the  garden  with  a  deluge  of  champagne.  The 
golden  drops  sparkled  on  every  rose-petal :  the 
lawn  was  drenched  with  it.  After  playing  one 
round  the  Bishop  was  gloriously  inflamed.  He 
had  to  be  carried  home,  roaring  the  most  un 
seemly  ditties.  Since  then,  as  I  say,  he  has 


26  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

grown  (I  fear)  a  trifle  suspicious.  But  let  us 
have  a  bite  of  supper/' 

More  than  once,  as  they  sat  under  a  thickly 
leafy  grape  arbor  in  the  quiet  green  enclosure, 
Bleak  had  to  pinch  himself  to  confirm  the  wit 
ness  of  his  senses.  A  table  was  delicately 
spread  with  an  agreeable  repast  of  cold  salmon, 
asparagus  salad,  fruits,  jellies,  and  whipped 
creams.  The  flagon  of  dandelion  vintage 
played  its  due  part  in  the  repast,  and  Mr.  Bleak 
began  to  entertain  a  new  respect  for  this  com 
mon  flower  of  which  he  had  been  unduly  inap- 
preciative.  Although  the  trellis  screened  them 
from  observation,  Quimbleton  seemed  ill  at 
ease.  He  kept  an  alert  gaze  roving  about  him, 
and  spoke  only  in  whispers.  Once,  when  a 
bird  lighted  in  the  foliage  behind  them,  causing 
a  sudden  stir  among  the  leaves,  his  shaggy 
beard  whirled  round  with  every  symptom  of 
panic.  Little  by  little  this  apprehension  began 
to  infect  the  journalist  also.  At  first  he  had 
hardly  restrained  his  mirth  at  the  sight  of  this 
burly  athlete  framed  in  the  bush  of  Santa 
Claus.  Now  he  began  to  wonder  whether  his 
escapade  had  been  consummated  at  too  great 
a  risk. 

That  old-fashioned  quarter  of  the  city  was 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  27 

incredibly  still.  As  the  light  ebbed  slowly,  and 
broad  blue  shadows  crept  across  the  patch  of 
turf,  they  sat  in  a  silence  broken  only  by  the 
wiry  cheep  of  sparrows  and  the  distant  moan 
of  trolley  cars.  The  arrows  of  the  decumbent 
sun  gilded  the  ripening  grapes  above  them. 
Suddenly  there  were  two  loud  bangs  and 
a  vicious  whistle  sang  through  the  arbor. 
Broken  twigs  eddied  down  upon  the  table  cloth. 

"Spotted  mackerel !"  cried  Bleak.  "Is  some 
one  shooting  at  us  ?" 

Quimbleton  reappeared  presently  from  un 
der  the  table.  "All  serene,"  he  said.  "We're 
safe  now.  That  was  only  Chuff.  Every  night 
about  this  time  he  comes  out  on  his  back  gal 
lery  and  enjoys  a  little  sharp-shooting.  He's 
a,  very  good  shot,  and  picks  off  the  grapes  that 
have  ripened  during  the  day.  There  were  only 
two  that  were  really  purple  this  evening,  so 
now  we  can  go  ahead.  Unless  he  should  send 
over  a  raiding  party,  we're  all  right." 

The  editor  solaced  himself  with  another 
beaker  of  the  dandelion  wine  and  they  finished 
their  meal  in  thoughtful  silence. 

"Mr.  Bleak,"  said  the  other  at  last,  "it  was 
something  more  than  mere  desire  to  give  you 
a  pleasant  surprise  that  led  me  to  your  office 


28  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

this  afternoon.  Have  you  leisure  to  listen? 
Good!  Please  try  one  of  these  cigars.  If, 
while  I  am  talking,  you  should  hear  any  one 
moving  in  the  garden,  just  tap  quietly  on  the 
table.  Tell  me,  have  you,  before  to-day,  ever 
heard  of  the  Corporation  for  the  Perpetuation 
of  Happiness?" 

"Never,"  replied  Bleak,  kindling  a  magnifico 
of  remarkably  rich,  mild  flavor. 

"That  is  as  I  expected,"  rejoined  Quimble- 
ton.  "We  have  campaigned  incognito,  partly 
by  choice  and  partly  (let  me  be  candid)  by 
necessity.  But  the  time  is  come  when  we  shall 
have  to  appear  in  the  open.  The  last  great 
struggle  is  on,  and  it  can  no  longer  be  con 
ducted  in  the  dark.  In  the  course  of  my  re 
marks  I  may  be  tempted  to  forget  our  present 
perils.  I  beg  of  you,  if  you  hear  any  sounds 
that  seem  suspicious,  to  notify  me  instantly." 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Bleak,  a  little  uneasily; 
"it  was  my  intention  to  catch  the  9.30  train 
for  Mandrake  Park/' 

The  fantastic  cascade  of  false  white  Hair 
wagged  gravely  in  the  dusk. 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Quimbleton  solemnly, 
"I  fancy  you  are  to  be  gratified  by  a  far  higher 
destiny  than  catching  the  9.30.  Do  me  the 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  29 

honor  of  filling  your  glass.  But  be  careful  not 
to  clink  the  decanter  against  the  tumbler. 
There  is  every  probability  that  vigilant  ears 
are  on  the  alert." 

There  was  a  brief  silence,  and  Bleak  won 
dered  (a  trifle  wildly)  if  he  were  dreaming. 
The  cigar  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  little 
table  glowed  rosily  several  times,  and  then 
Quimbleton's  voice  resumed,  in  a  deep  under 
tone. 

"It  is  necessary  to  tell  you,"  he  said,  "that 
the  Corporation  was  founded  a  number  of 
years  ago,  long  before  the  events  of  the  fatal 
year  1919  and  the  Eighteenth  Amendment  to 
the  Constitution.  The  incident  of  this  after 
noon  may  have  caused  you  to  think  that  what 
is  vulgarly  called  booze  is  the  chief  preoccupa 
tion  of  our  society.  That  is  not  so.  We  were 
prganized  at  first  simply  to  bring  merriment 
and  good  cheer  into  the  lives  of  those  who 
have  found  the  vexations  of  modern  life  too 
trying.  In  our  early  days  we  carried  on  an 
excellent  (though  unsystematic)  guerilla  war 
fare  against  human  suffering. 

"In  this  (let  me  admit  it  frankly)  we  were 
to  a  great  degree  selfish.  As  you  are  aware, 
the  essence  of  humor  is  surprise:  we  found  a 


30  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

delicious  humor  in  our  campaign  of  surprising 
woebegone  humanity  in  moments  of  crisis. 
For  instance,  we  used  to  picket  the  railway 
terminals  to  console  commuters  who  had  just 
missed  their  trains.  We  found  it  uproariously 
funny  to  approach  a  perspiring  suburbanite, 
who  had  missed  the  train  (let  us  say)  to  Man 
drake  Park,  and  to  press  upon  him,  with  the 
compliments  of  the  Corporation,  some  consola 
tory  souvenir — a  box  of  cigars,  perhaps,  or  a 
basket  of  rare  fruit  Housewives,  groaning 
over  their  endless  routine  of  bathing  the  baby, 
ordering  the  meals,  sweeping  the  floors  and 
so  on,  would  be  amazed  by  the  sudden  appear 
ance  of  one  of  our  deputies,  in  the  service  uni 
form  of  gray  and  silver,  equipped  with  vacuum 
cleaner  and  electric  baby-washing  machine,  to 
take  over  the  domestic  chores  for  one  day.  The 
troubles  of  lovers  were  under  our  special  care. 
We  saw  how  much  anguish  is  caused  by  the 
passion  of  jealousy.  Many  an  engaged  dam 
sel,  tempted  to  mild  escapade  in  some  perfumed 
conservatory,  found  her  heart  chilled  by  the 
stern  eye  of  a  uniformed  C.  P.  H.  agent  lurk 
ing  behind  a  potted  hydrangea.  We  hired 
bands  of  urchins  to  make  faces  at  evil  old  men 
who  plate-glass  themselves  in  the  windows  of 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  31 

clubs.  Many  a  husband,  wondering  desper 
ately  which  hat  or  which  tie  to  select,  has  been 
surprised  by  the  appearance  of  one  of  our  staff 
at  his  elbow,  tactfully  pointing  out  which  ar 
ticle  would  best  harmonize  with  his  complexion 
and  station  in  life.  Ladies  who  insisted  on 
overpowdering  their  noses  were  quietly  way 
laid  by  one  of  our  matrons,  and  the  excess  of 
rice-dust  removed.  A  whole  shipload  of  peo 
ple  who  persisted  in  eating  onions  were  gath 
ered  (without  any  publicity)  into  a  concentra 
tion  camp,  and  in  company  with  several  popu 
lar  comedians,  deported  to  a  coral  atoll.  I 
could  enumerate  thousands  of  such  instances. 
For  several  years  we  worked  in  this  unassum 
ing  way,  trying  to  add  to  the  sum  of  human 
happiness." 

Quimbleton's  white  beard  shone  with  a  pink 
ish  brightness  as  he  inhaled  heavily  on  his 
cigar. 

"Now,  Mr.  Bleak,"  he  went  on,  "I  come  to 
you  because  we  need  your  help.  We  can  no 
longer  maintain  a  light-hearted  sniping  cam 
paign  on  the  enemies  of  human  happiness. 
This  is  a  death  struggle.  You  are  aware  that 
Chuff  and  his  legions  are  planning  a  tremen 
dous  parade  for  to-morrow.  You  know  that 


32  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

it  will  be  the  most  startling  demonstration  of 
its  kind  ever  arranged.  One  hundred  thousand 
pan-antis  will  parade  on  the  Boulevard,  with  a 
hundred  brass  bands,  led  by  the  Bishop  himself 
on  his  coal  black  horse.  Do  you  know  the  pur 
pose  of  the  parade?" 

"In  a  general  way,"  said  Bleak,  "I  suppose 
it  is  to  give  publicity  to  the  prohibition  cause." 

"They  have  kept  their  malign  scheme  en 
tirely  secret,"  said  Quimbleton.  "You,  as  a 
newspaper  man,  should  know  it.  Does  the  (so- 
called)  cause  of  prohibition  require  publicity? 
Nonsense!  Prohibition  is  already  in  effect. 
The  purpose  of  the  parade  is  to  undermine  the 
splendid  work  our  Corporation  has  been  doing 
for  the  past  two  years.  As  soon  as  the  fatal 
amendment  was  passed  we  set  to  work  to  teach 
people  how  to  brew  beverages  of  their  own,  in 
their  own  homes.  As  you  know,  very  delicious 
wine  may  be  made  from  almost  every  vegetable 
and  fruit.  Potatoes,  tomatoes,  rhubarb,  cur 
rants,  blackberries,  gooseberries,  raisins,  apples 
1 — all  these  are  susceptible  of  fermentation, 
transforming  their  juices  into  desirable  vin 
tages.  We  specialized  on  such  beverages.  We 
printed  and  distributed  millions  of  recipes. 
Chuff  countered  by  passing  laws  that  no 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  33 

printed  recipes  could  circulate  through  the 
mails.  We  had  motion  pictures  filmed,  show 
ing  the  eager  public  how  to  perform  these  sim 
ple  and  cheering  processes.  Chuff  thereupon 
had  motion  pictures  banned.  He  would  abolish 
the  principle  of  fermentation  itself  if  he  could. 
We  composed  a  little  song-recipe  for  dandelion 
wine,  sending  thousands  of  minstrels  to  sing 
it  about  the  country  until  the  people  should 
memorize  it.  Now  Chuff  threatens  to  forbid 
singing  and  the  memorizing  of  poetry.  At 
this  moment  he  has  fifty  thousand  zealots 
working  in  the  countryside  collecting  and 
burning  dandelion  seeds  so  as  to  reduce  the 
crop  next  spring. 

"The  purpose  of  his  parade  to-morrow  is 
devastating  in  its  simplicity.  Having  learned 
that  wine  may  be  made  from  gooseberries,  he 
proposes  (as  a  first  step)  to  abolish  them  alto 
gether.  This  is  to  be  the  Nineteenth  Amend 
ment  to  the  Constitution.  No  gooseberries 
shall  be  grown  upon  the  soil  of  the  United 
States,  or  imported  from  abroad.  Raisins  too, 
since  it  is  said  that  one  raisin  in  a  bottle  of 
grape  juice  can  cause  it  to  bubble  in  illicit 
fashion,  are  to  be  put  in  the  category  of  deadly 
weapons.  Any  one  found  carrying  a  concealed 


34  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

raisin  will  go  before  a  firing  squad.  And 
Chuff  threatens  to  abolish  all  vegetables  of 
every  kind  if  necessary." 

Bleak  sat  in  horrified  silence. 

"There  is  another  aspect  of  the  matter,"  said 
Quimbleton,  "that  touches  your  profession 
very  closely.  Bishop  Chuff  is  greatly  annoyed 
at  the  persistent  use  of  the  printing  press  to 
issue  clandestine  vinous  recipes.  He  solemnly 
threatens,  if  this  continues,  to  abolish  the  print 
ing  press.  This  is  to  be  the  Twentieth  Amend 
ment.  No  printing  press  shall  be  used  in  the 
territory  of  the  United  States.  Any  man 
found  with  a  printing  press  concealed  about 
his  person  shall  be  sentenced  to  life  imprison 
ment.  Even  the  Congressional  Record  is  to  be 
written  entirely  by  hand." 

The  editor  was  unable  to  speak.  He  reached 
for  the  decanter,  but  found  it  empty. 

"Very  well  then,"  said  Quimbleton.  "The 
facts  are  before  you.  I  suppose  The  Evening 
Balloon  has  made  its  customary  enterprising 
preparations  to  report  the  big  parade?" 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Bleak.  "Three  pho 
tographers  and  three  of  our  most  brilliant  re 
porters  have  been  assigned  to  cover  the  event. 
One  of  the  stories,  dealing  with  pathetic  inci- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  33 

dents  of  the  procession,  has  already  been  writ 
ten — cases  of  women  swooning  in  the  vast 
throng,  and  so  on.  The  Balloon  is  always 
first/'  he  added,  by  force  of  habit. 

"I  want  you  to  discard  all  your  plans  for 
describing  the  parade/'  said  Quimbleton.  "I 
am  about  to  give  you  the  greatest  scoop  in  the 
history  of  journalism.  The  procession  will 
break  up  in  confusion.  All  that  will  be  neces 
sary  to  say  can  be  said  in  half  a  dozen  lines, 
which  I  will  give  you  now.  I  suggest  that  you 
print  them  on  your  front  page  in  the  largest 
possible  type." 

From  his  pocket  he  took  a  sheet  of  paper, 
neatly  folded,  and  handed  it  across  the  table. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Bleak. 
"How  can  you  know  what  will  happen?" 

"The  Corporation  has  spoken,"  said  his  host. 
"Let  us  go  indoors,  where  you  can  read  what 
I  have  written." 

In  a  small  handsomely  appointed  library 
Bleak  opened  the  paper.  It  was  a  sheet  of 
official  stationery  and  read  as  follows : — 


36  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 


THE    CORPORATION    FOR    THE 
PERPETUATION  OF  HAPPINESS 

Cable  Address :  Hapcorp 
Virgil  Quimbleton,  Associate  Director 

1316  Caraway  Street 
Owing  to  the  intoxication  of  Bishop 
Chuff,  the  projected  parade  of  the 
Pan-Antis  broke  up  in  confusion. 
Federal  Home  for  Inebriates  at  Cana, 
N.  J.,  reopened  after  two  years'  vaca 
tion. 


'Is  this  straight  stuff  ?"  asked  Bleak  tremu 
lously. 

"My  right  hand  upon  it,"  cried  Quimbleton, 
tearing  off  his  beard  in  his  earnestness. 

"Then  good-night!"  said  Bleak.  "I  must 
get  back  to  the  office." 


CHAPTER  III 

INCIDENT  OF  THE  GOOSEBERRY  BOMBS 

THE  day  of  the  great  parade  dawned 
dazzling  and  clear,  with  every  prom 
ise  of  heat.  From  the  first  blue  of 
morning,  while  the  streets  were  still  cool  and 
marble  front  steps  moist  from  housemaids' 
sluicings,  crowds  of  Bishop  Chuff's  marchers 
came  pouring  into  the  city.  At  the  prear 
ranged  mobilization  points,  where  bands  were 
stationed  to  keep  the  throngs  amused  until  the 
immense  procession  could  be  ranged  in  line,  the 
press  was  terrific.  Every  trolley,  every  subur 
ban  train,  every  jitney,  was  crammed  with  the 
pan-antis,  clad  in  white,  carrying  the  buttons, 
ribbons  and  banners  that  had  been  prepared 
for  this  great  occasion.  Down  with  Goose 
berries,  the  New  "Menace!  was  the  terrifying 
legend  printed  on  these  emblems. 

The  Boulevard  had  been  roped  off  by  the 
police  by  eight  o'clock,  and  the  pavements  were 
swarming  with  citizens,  many  of  whom  had 

37 


38  IN  .THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

camped  there  all  night  in  order  to  witness  this 
tremendous  spectacle.  As  the  sun  surged  piti 
lessly  higher,  the  temperature  became  painful. 
The  asphalt  streets  grew  soft  under  the 
twingeing  feet  of  the  Pan-Antis,  and  waves  of 
heat  radiation  shimmered  along  the  vista  of 
the  magnificent  highway.  To  keep  themselves 
cheerful  the  legions  of  Chuff  sang  their  new 
Gooseberry  Anthem,  written  by  Miss  Theodo- 
linda  Chuff  (the  Bishop's  daughter)  to  the  air 
of  "Marching  Through  Georgia."  The  rous 
ing  strains  rose  in  unison  from  thousands  of 
earnest  throats.  The  majesty  of  the  song  can 
not  be  comprehended  unless  the  reader  will  per 
mit  himself  to  hum  to  the  familiar  tune: — 

Root  up  every  gooseberry  where  Satan  winks 

his  eye — • 
We  will  make  the  sinful  earth  a  credit  by  and 

by; 

Europe  may  be  stubborn,  but  we'll  legislate  her 

dry, 
And  then  we'll  tackle  the  planets. 

Chorus: 

Hurrah!  Hurrah!  We're  anti-everything — 
Hurrah!  Hurrah!  An  end  to  joy  we  sing: 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  39 

Come  let's  make  life  doleful  and  then 

death  will  lose  its  sting, 
Happiness  is  only  a  habit ! 

Come  then,  all  ye  citizens,  and  join  our  stern 

iVerein: 
We're  the  ones  that  put  the  crimp  in  whiskey, 

beer  and  wine; 
Booze  is  gone  and  soon  we'll  make  tobacco  fall 

in  line, 
And  then  we'll  tackle  the  planets. 

Chorus: 

Hurrah !  Hurrah !  We're  anti-everything — 
Hurrah!  Hurrah!  An  end  to  joy  we  sing: 
Come  let's  make  life  doleful  and  then 

death  will  lose  its  sting, 
Happiness  is  only  a  habit! 

We'll  abolish  every  fruit  attempting  to  fer 
ment — • 

We  will  alter  Nature's  laws  and  teach  her  to 
repent: 

Let  the  fatal  gooseberry  proceed  where  cock 
tails  went, 
And  then  we'll  tackle  the  planets. 

Chorus  as  before. 


40  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

From  the  beginning  of  the  day,  however,  it 
became  apparent  that  there  was  a  concerted 
movement  under  way  to  heckle  the  Pan-Antis. 
As  the  Gooseberry  Anthem  came  to  an  end  a 
number  of  men  were  observed  on  the  skyline 
of  a  tall  building,  wig-wagging  with  flags.  All 
eyes  were  turned  aloft,  and  much  speculation 
ensued  among  the  waiting  thousands  as  to  the 
meaning  of  the  signals.  Then  a  cry  of  anger 
burst  from  one  of  the  section  leaders,  who  was 
acquainted  with  the  Morse  code.  The  flags 
were  spelling  What  a  Day  for  a  Drink!  All 
down  the  Boulevard  the  white  and  gold  ban 
ners  tossed  in  anger.  To  those  above,  the  mass 
of  agitated  chuffs  looked  like  a  field  of  daisies 
in  a  wind. 

Shortly  afterward  the  familiar  buzz  of  air 
plane  motors  was  heard,  and  three  silver-gray 
machines  came  coasting  above  the  channel  of 
the  Boulevard.  They  flew  low,  and  it  was  easy 
to  read  the  initials  C.  P.  H.  painted  on  the 
nether  surface  of  their  wings.  Over  the  front 
ranks  of  the  parade  (which  was  beginning  to 
fall  in  line)  they  executed  a  series  of  fantastic 
twirls.  Then,  as  though  at  a  concerted  signal, 
they  dropped  a  cloud  of  paper  slips  which  came 
eddying  down  through  the  sunlight.  The 


A  SULLEN  MURMUR  AROSE  WHEN  THE 
MESSAGES  WERE  READ 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  43 

chuffs  scrambled  for  them,  wondering.  A  sul 
len  murmur  rose  when  the  messages  were  read. 
They  ran  thus : — • 

TO  MAKE  GOOSEBERRY  WINE 

(Paste  This  in  Your  Hat) 

Ten     quarts     of    gooseberries,     thoroughly 

crushed; 

Over  these,  five  quarts  of  water  are  flushed. 
Twice  round  the  clock  let  the  fluid  remain, 
Then  through  a  sieve  the  blithe  mixture  you 

strain, 

Adding  some  sugar  (not  less  than  ten  pound) 
And  stirring  it  carefully,  round  and  around. 

To  the  pulp  of  the  fruit  that  remains  in  the 

sieve 

A  gallon  of  pure  filtered  water  you  give: 
This  you  let  stand  for  a  dozen  of  hours, 
Then  add  to  the  other  to  strengthen  its  powers. 
Shut  up  the  whole  for  the  space  of  a  day 
And  it  will  ferment  in  a  riotous  way. 

When  you  see  by  the  froth  that  the  fluid  grows 

thicker 
You  should  skim  it  (with  glee)  for  it's  turning 

to  liquor! 


44  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

While  it  ferments,  please  continue  to  skim: 
At  the  end,  you  may  murmur  the  Bartender's 

Hymn. 

This  makes  a  booze  that  is  potent  enough — • 
Seal  in  a  hogshead — and  hide  it  from  Chuff! 
Corporation  for  the 
Perpetuation  of  Happiness. 

The  Pan-Antis  were  still  muttering  furious 
ly  over  this  daring  act  of  defiance  when  a  shrill 
bugle-call  pealed  down  the  avenue.  Bishop 
Chuff  rode  out  into  the  middle  of  the  street 
on  his  famous  coal-black  charger,  John  Barley 
corn.  There  was  a  long  hush.  Then,  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand,  he  gave  the  signal.  One 
hundred  bands  burst  into  the  somber  and  clang 
ing  strains  of  "The  Face  on  the  Bar-Room 
Floor.'1  The  great  parade  had  begun. 

From  a  house-top  farther  up  the  street  Dun- 
raven  Bleak  watched  them  come.  He  had 
taken  Quimbleton's  word  seriously,  and  with 
his  usual  enterprise  had  rented  a  roof  over 
looking  the  Boulevard,  on  which  several  mem 
bers  of  the  Balloon  staff  were  prepared  to  deal 
with  any  startling  events  that  might  occur.  A 
battery  of  telephones  had  been  installed  on  the 
house-top;  Bleak  himself  sat  with  apparatus 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  45 

clamped  to  his  head  like  an  operator  at  central. 
Two  reporters  were  busy  with  paper  and  pen 
cil;  the  cartoonist  sat  on  the  cornice,  with  legs 
swinging  above  two  hundred  feet  of  space, 
sketching  the  prodigious  scene.  The  young 
lady  editor  of  the  Woman's  Page  was  there, 
with  opera  glasses,  noting  down  the  "among 
those  present." 

It  was  an  awe-inspiring  spectacle.  Between 
sidewalks  jammed  with  silent  and  morose  citi 
zens,  the  Pan-Antis  passed  like  a  conquering 
army.  The  terrible  Bishop,  the  man  who  had 
put  military  discipline  into  the  ranks  of  his 
mighty  organization,  rode  his  horse  as  the 
Kaiser  would  have  liked  to  ride  entering  Paris. 
His  small,  bitter,  fanatical  face  wore  a  deeply 
carved  sneer.  His  great  black  beard  flapped  in 
the  breeze,  and  he  sang  as  he  rode.  Behind 
him  came  huge  floats  depicting  in  startling 
tableaux  the  hideous  menace  of  the  goose 
berry.  Bands  blared  and  crashed.  Then,  rank 
on  rank,  as  far  as  eye  could  see,  followed  the 
zealots  in  their  garments  of  white.  Each  one, 
it  was  noticed,  carried  a  neat  knapsack.  Huge 
tractors  rumbled  along,  groaning  beneath  a 
tonnage  of  tracts  which  were  shot  into  the 


46  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

watching  crowd  by  pneumatic  guns.  Banners 
whipped  and  fluttered. 

The  sound  of  shrill  chanting  vibrated  in  the 
blazing  air  like  a  visible  wave  of  power.  These 
were  conquerors  of  a  nation,  and  they  knew  it. 
A  former  bartender,  standing  in  the  front  of 
the  crowd,  caught  Chuff's  merciless  gaze,  wav 
ered,  and  swooned.  A  retired  distiller,  sitting 
in  the  window  of  the  Brass  Rail  Club,  fell  dead 
of  apoplexy. 

Bleak  trembled  with  nervousness.  Had 
Quimbleton  hoaxed  him?  What  could  halt 
this  mighty  pageant  now?  He  was  about 
to  telephone  to  his  city  editor  to  go  ahead 
with  the  one  o'clock  edition  as  originally 
planned.  .  .  . 

From  the  sky  came  a  roar  of  engines  that 
drowned  for  a  moment  the  thundering  echoes 
of  the  parade.  The  three  gray  planes,  which 
had  been  circling  far  above,  swooped  down 
almost  to  a  level  with  the  tops  of  the  buildings. 
One  of  these,  a  huge  two-seated  bomber,  passed 
directly  over  Bleak's  head.  He  craned  up 
ward,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  what  he  thought 
at  first  was  a  white  pennant  trailing  over  the 
bulwark  of  the  cockpit.  A  snowy  shag  of 
whiskers  came  tossing  down  through  the  air 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  47 

and  fell  in  his  lap.  It  was  Quimbleton's  beard, 
torn  from  its  moorings  by  the  tug  of  wind- 
pressure.  Bleak  thrust  it  quickly  in  his  pocket. 
As  the  great  plane  passed  over  the  head  of 
the  parade,  flying  dangerously  low,  every  face 
save  that  of  the  iron-willed  Bishop  was  turned 
upward.  But  even  in  their  curiosity  the 
rigid  discipline  of  the  Pan-Antis  prevailed. 
Now  they  were  singing,  to  the  tune  of  "The 
Old  Gray  Mare/' 

Old  John  Barleycorn,  he  ain't  what  he  used 
to  be 

Ain't  what  he  used  to  be — 

AIN'T  WHAT  HE  USED  TO  BE ! 

Old  John  Barleycorn,  he  ain't  what  he  used 

to  be, 
Many  a  year  ago. 

The  great  volume  of  gusty  sound,  hurled  aloft 
by  these  thousands  of  sky-pointing  mouths, 
created  an  air-pocket  in  which  the  bombing 
plane  tilted  dangerously.  For  a  moment,  Bleak, 
,who  was  watching  the  plane,  thought  it  was 
going  to  careen  into  a  tail-spin  and  crash  down 
fatally.  Then  he  saw  Quimbleton,  still  recog 
nizable  by  an  adhering  shred  of  whisker,  lean 
over  the  side  of  the  fuselage. 


48  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

A  small  dark  object  dropped  through  the  air, 
fell  with  a  loud  pop  on  the  street  a  few  yards 
in  front  of  the  Bishop.  A  faint  green  vapor 
arose,  misting  for  a  moment  the  proud  figures 
of  Chuff  and  his  horse.  At  the  same  instant 
the  other  two  planes,  throbbing  down  the  line 
of  the  parade,  discharged  a  rain  of  similar  pro 
jectiles  along  the  vacant  strip  of  paving  be 
tween  the  marching  chuffs  and  the  police-lined 
curb.  An  eddying  emerald  fume  filled  the 
street,  drifting  with  the  brisk  air  down  through 
all  the  ranks  of  the  procession.  There  were 
shouts  and  screams;  the  clanging  bands 
squawked  discordantly. 

"Holy  cat!"  shouted  the  cartoonist — "Poison 
gas!" 

"Nix!"  said  Bleak,  revealing  Quimbleton's 
secret  in  his  excitement.  "Gooseberry  bombs. 
Every  chuff  that  inhales  it  will  be  properly 
soused.  Oh,  boy,  some  story!  Look  at  the 
Bish!  He's  got  a  snootful  already — his  face 
has  turned  black!" 

"The  whole  crowd  has  turned  black/'  said 
the  cartoonist,  almost  falling  off  his  perch  in 
a  frantic  effort  to  see  more  clearly  through  the 
olive  haze  that  filled  the  street. 

It  was  true.    Above  the  thousands  of  white 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  49 

figures,  as  they  emerged  from  the  intoxicat 
ing  cloud-bank  of  gooseberry  gas,  grinned 
ghastly,  inhuman,  blackened  faces,  with  staring 
goggle  eyes.  The  Bishop  was  most  frightful 
of  all.  His  horse  was  prancing  and  swaying 
wildly,  and  the  Bishop's  transformed  features 
were  diabolic.  His  whole  profile  had  altered, 
seemed  black  and  shapeless  as  the  face  of  a  tad 
pole.  The  amazing  truth  burst  upon  Bleak. 
Chuff  and  his  paraders  were  wearing  gas 
masks.  These  were  what  they  had  carried  in 
their  knapsacks.  Indomitable  Chuff,  who  had 
foreseen  everything! 

"Poor  Quimbleton,"  said  Bleak.  "This  will 
break  his  heart  I" 

"His  neck  too,  I  fancy,"  said  one  of  the 
others,  pointing  to  the  sky,  and  indeed  one  of 
the  three  planes  was  seen  falling  tragically  to 
earth  behind  the  tower  of  the  City  Hall. 

The  cloud  of  gas  was  rapidly  drifting  off 
down  the  Boulevard,  and  through  the  exhilar 
ating  and  delicious  fog  the  Pan-Antis  waved 
their  defiant  banners  unscathed.  The  progress 
of  the  parade,  however,  was  halted  by  the  be 
havior  of  the  Bishop's  horse,  for  which  no 
mask  had  been  provided.  The  noble  animal, 
under  this  sudden  and  extraordinary  stimulus. 


50  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

was  almost  human  in  its  actions.  At  first  it 
stood,  whinneying  sharply,  and  pawing  the  air 
with  one  forefoot — as  though  feeling  for  the 
brass  rail,  as  one  of  Bleak's  companions  said. 
It  raised  its  head  proudly,  with  open  mouth  and 
expanded  nostrils.  Then,  dashing  off  across 
the  broad  street,  it  seemed  eager  to  climb  a 
lamp-post,  and  only  the  fierce  restraint  of  the 
Bishop  held  it  in.  One  of  the  chuffs  (perhaps 
only  lukewarm  in  loyalty),  ran  up  and  offered 
to  give  his  mask  to  the  horse,  but  was  sternly 
motioned  back  to  the  ranks  by  the  infuriated 
leader,  who  was  wildly  wrestling  to  gain  con 
trol  of  the  exuberant  animal.  At  last  the  horse 
solved  the  problem  by  lying  dowr;  in  the  street, 
on  top  of  the  Bishop,  and  going  to  sleep.  An 
ambulance,  marked  Federal  Home  for  Inebri 
ates,  Cana,  N.  J.,  dashed  up  with  shrilling 
gong.  This  had  been  arranged  by  Quimbleton, 
who  had  wired  a  requisition  for  an  ambulance 
to  remove  one  intoxicated  bishop.  As  the 
Bishop  was  quite  in  command  of  his  faculties, 
the  horse,  after  some  delay,  was  hoisted  into 
the  ambulance  instead.  The  Bishop  was  given 
a  dusting,  and  the  parade  proceeded.  The  self- 
control  of  the  police  alone  averted  prolonged 
and  frightful  disorder,  for  when  the  conduct  of 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  51 

the  horse  was  observed  thousands  of  spectators 
fought  desperately  to  get  through  the  ropes 
and  out  into  the  fumes  that  still  lingered  in 
wisps  and  whorls  of  green  vapor.  Others  tore 
off  their  coats  and  attempted  to  bag  a  few  cubic 
inches  of  the  gas  in  these  garments.  But  the 
police,  with  a  devotion  to  duty  that  was  beyond 
praise,  kept  the  mob  in  check  and  themselves 
bore  the  brunt  of  the  lingering  acid.  Only  one 
man,  who  leaped  from  an  office-window  with  an 
improvised  parachute,  really  succeeded  in  get 
ting  into  the  middle  of  the  Boulevard,  and  he 
refused  to  be  ejected  on  the  ground  that  he 
was  chief  of  the  street-cleaning  department. 
This  department,  by  the  way,  was  given  a  re 
markable  illustration  of  the  fine  public  spirit  of 
the  citizens,  for  by  three  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon  two  hundred  thousand  applications  had 
been  received  from  those  eager  to  act  as  volun 
teer  street-cleaners  and  help  scour  the  Boule 
vard  after  the  passage  of  the  great  parade. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  GREAT  WAR  BEGINS 

AS  the  echoes  of  the  parade  died  away, 
public  excitement  was  roused  to  fever 
by  the  discovery  that  evening  of  an 
infernal  machine  in  the  City  Hall.  Leaning 
against  one  of  the  great  marble  pillars  in  the 
lobby  of  the  building,  a  gleaming  object  (look 
ing  very  much  like  a  four-inch  shrapnel  shell) 
was  found  by  a  vigilant  patrolman.  To  his 
horror  he  found  it  to  be  one  of  the  much- 
dreaded  thermos  bottles.  Experts  from  the 
Bureau  of  Rumbustibles  were  summoned,  and 
the  bomb  was  carefully  analyzed.  Much  to  the 
disappointment  of  the  chief  inspector,  the  dev 
ilish  ingredients  of  the  explosive  had  been 
spoiled  by  immersion  in  a  pail  of  water,  so  his 
examination  was  purely  theoretical ;  but  it  was 
plain  that  the  leading  component  of  this  hellish 
mixture  had  been  nothing  less  than  gin,  ani 
mated  by  a  fuse  of  lemon-peel.  If  the  cylinder 
had  exploded,  unquestionably  every  occupant 

52 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  53 

of  the  City  Hall  would  have  been  intoxicated. 

The  conduct  of  the  municipal  officials  in  this 
crisis  was  extremely  courageous.  No  one 
knew  whether  other  articles  of  this  kind  might 
not  be  concealed  about  the  building,  but  the 
Mayor  and  councilmen  refused  to  go  home, 
and  even  assisted  in  the  search  for  possible 
bombs.  Secret  service  men  were  called  from 
Washington,  and  went  into  consultation  with 
Bishop  Chuff.  It  was  a  night  of  uproar.  A 
reign  of  terror  was  freely  predicted,  and  many 
prominent  citizens  sat  up  until  after  midnight 
on  the  chance  of  discovering  similar  explosives 
concealed  about  their  premises. 

The  morning  papers  rallied  rapidly  to  the 
cause  of  threatened  civilization.  The  Daily 
Circumspect  declared,  editorially : — 

The  alcoholsheviks  have  at  last  thrown  down 
the  gauntlet.  The  news  that  the  ginarchists  have 
placed  a  ginfernal  machine  in  the  very  shrine  of 
law  and  order  is  tantamount  to  a  declaration  of 
•war  upon  sobriety  as  a  whole.  A  canister  of  for 
bidden  design,  filled  with  the  deadliest  gingredi- 
ents,  was  found  in  the  corridor  leading  to  the 
bureau  of  marriage  licenses  in  the  City  Hall. 
There  must  have  been  something  more  than  ac 
cident  in  its  discovery  just  in  this  spot.  Men  of 
thoughtful  temper  will  do  well  to  heed  the  sym 
bolism  of  this  incident.  Plainly  not  only  the 
constitution  of  the  United  States  is  to  be  made 
a  quaffing-stock,  but  the  very  sanctity  of  the  mar 
riage  bond  is  assailed.  To  this  form  of  terrorism 
there  is  but  one  answer. 

In  the  meantime,  Quimbleton  had  disap 
peared.  The  house  on  Caraway  Street  was 


54  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

broken  into  by  the  police,  but  except  for  the 
grape  arbor  and  a  great  quantity  of  empty 
bottles  in  the  cellar,  no  clue  was  found.  Ap 
parently,  however,  the  vanished  ginarchist 
(for  so  Chuff  called  him)  had  been  writing 
poetry  before  his  departure.  The  following 
rather  inscrutable  doggerel  was  found  scrawled 
on  a  piece  of  paper: — 

When  Death  doth  reap 

And  Chuff  is  sickled, 
He  will  not  keep: 

He  was  never  pickled. 

For  Bishop  Chuff 

This  is  ill  cheer: 
.That  Time  will  force  him 

To  the  bier. 

And  when  he  stands 

On  his  last  legs 
Then  Death  will  drain  him 

To  the  dregs. 

So  when  Chuff  croaks 
Bury  him  on  a  high  hill — • 

For  he's  a  hoax 
Et  pr&terea  nihil! 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  55 

But  Bishop  Chuff  was  not  the  man  to  take 
these  insults  tamely.  His  first  act  was  to  call 
together  the  legislature  of  the  State  in  special 
session,  and  the  following  act  was  rushed 
through  : 

AN  ACT 

Severing  relations  with  Nature,  and  amending  the 
principles  and  processes  of  the  same  in  so  far  as  they 
contravene  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  and 
the  tenets  of  the  Pan-Antis: 

WHEREAS,  in  accordance  with  the  Dec 
laration  of  Gindependence,  it  may  become  nec 
essary  for  a  people  to  dissolve  the  alcoholic 
bands  which  have  connected  them  with  one  an 
other  and  to  assume  among  the  powers  of  the 
earth  the  sobriety  to  which  the  laws  of  pes 
simism  entitle  them,  a  decent  disrespect  to  the 
opinions  of  drinkers  requires  that  they  should 
declare  the  causes  which  impel  them  to  drouth. 

WHEREAS  we  hold  these  truths  to  be  self- 
evident,  that  all  men  are  created  sober,  and 
are  endowed  with  certain  inalienable  rights, 
such  as  Life,  Grievances,  and  the  Pursuit  of 
Other  People's  Happiness.  Whenever  any 
form  of  amusement  becomes  destructive  of 
these  ends,  it  is  the  right  of  the  Pan-Antis  to 


56  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

abolish  it.  Prudence,  indeed,  will  dictate  that 
beverages  long  established  should  not  be  abol 
ished  for  light  and  transient  causes.  But 
when  it  is  evident  that  Nature  herself  is  in 
conspiracy  against  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  and  that  millions  of  so-called 
human  beings  have  found  in  forbidden  tipples 
a  cause  for  mirth  and  merriment,  it  is  time  to 
call  a  halt  to  malt,  and  have  no  parley  with 
barley. 

WHEREAS  it  has  frequently  and  re 
grettably  been  evidenced  that  Nature  is  a  sot 
at  heart,  by  reason  of  her  deplorably  lax  mor 
als.  Painful  as  it  is  to  make  the  admission, 
there  are  many  of  her  apparently  innocent 
fruits  and  plants  that  are  susceptible,  by  the 
unlawful  processes  of  fermentation  and  effer 
vescence,  of  transformation  into  alcoholic  liq 
uid.  Science  tells  us  that  this  abominable 
form  of  activity  to  which  Nature  is  privy  is  in 
reality  a  form  of  decomposition  or  putrefac 
tion;  but  willful  men  will  hardly  be  restrained 
by  science  in  their  illicit  pursuit  of  frivolity. 

WHEREAS  Nature  (hereinafter  referred 
to  as  The  Enemy)  has  been  guilty  of  repeated 
ruptures  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  having  permitted  the  juice  of  apples  to 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  57 

ferment  into  cider,  having  encouraged  sedi- 
jtious  effervescence  on  the  part  of  gooseberries, 
currants,  raisins,  grapes  and  similar  conspira 
tors;  having  fomented  outrageous  yeastiness 
in  hops,  malt,  rye,  barley  and  other  grains  and 
fodders,  I 

THEREFORE  be  it  enacted,  and  it  hereby 
is,  that  all  relations  with  the  Enemy  are  hereby 
and  henceforward  suspended;  and  any  citizen 
of  the  United  States  having  commerce  with 
Nature,  or  giving  her  aid  and  comfort  or  en 
couragement  in  her  atrocious  alcoholshevik 
designs  on  human  dignity,  be,  and  hereby  is, 
guilty  of  treason  and  lese-sobriety. 

BE  IT  ALSO  enacted,  and  it  hereby  is,  that 
the  principle  of  fermentation  is  forbidden  in 
the  territory  of  the  United  States;  and  all 
plants,  herbs,  legumes,  vegetables,  fruits  and 
foliage  showing  themselves  capable  of  produc 
ing  effervescent  juices  or  liquids  in  which  bub 
bles  and  gases  rise  to  the  top  be,  and  hereby 
are,  confiscated,  eradicated  and  removed  from 
the  surface  of  the  soil.  And  all  the  laws  of 
Nature  inconsistent  with  the  principle  of  this 
Act  be  and  hereby  are  repealed  and  rendered 
null  and  inconclusive. 

IT  IS  HOPED  that  this  suspension  of  rela- 


58  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

tions  with  Nature  will  operate  as  a  sharp  re 
buke,  and  bring  her  to  reason.  It  is  not  the 
sense  of  this  Act  to  withhold  from  the  Enemy 
all  hope  of  a  future  reconciliation,  should  she 
cast  off  the  habits  that  have  made  her  a  men 
ace.  We  have  no  quarrel  with  Nature  as  a 
whole.  But  there  is  a  certain  misguided 
clique,  the  dandelions  and  gooseberries  and 
other  irresponsible  plants,  which  must  be  hu 
miliated.  We  do  not  presume  to  suggest  to 
Nature  any  alteration  or  modification  of  her 
necessary  institutions.  But  who  can  claim 
that  the  principle  of  fermentation,  which  she 
has  arrogated  to  herself,  is  necessary  to  her 
health  and  happiness?  This  Intolerable 
Thing,  of  which  Nature  has  shown  us  the  ugly 
mug,  this  menace  of  combined  intrigue  and 
force,  must  be  crushed,  with  proud  punctilio. 
AND  FOR  THE  strict  enforcement  of  this 
Act,  the  Pan-Antis  are  authorized  and  em 
powered  to  organize  expeditionary  forces,  by 
recruitment  or  (if  necessary)  by  conscription 
and  draft,  to  proceed  into  the  territory  of  the 
enemy,  lay  waste  and  ravage  all  dandelions, 
gooseberries  and  other  unlawful  plants.  Until 
this  is  accomplished  Nature  shall  be  and  hereby 
is  declared  a  barred  zone,  in  which  civilians 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  59 

and  non-combatants  pass  at  their  own  peril; 
and  all  citizens  not  serving  with  the  expedi 
tionary  forces  shall  remain  within  city  and 
village  limits  until  the  territory  of  Nature  Is 
made  safe  for  sobriety. 

This  document,  having  been  signed  by  the 
Governor,  became  law,  and  thousands  of  peo 
ple  who  were  about  to  leave  town  for  their  va 
cation  were  held  up  at  the  railway  stations. 
Nature  was  declared  under  martial  law. 
There  were  many  who  held  that  the  Act,  while 
admirable  in  principle,  did  not  go  far  enough 
in  practice.  For  instance,  it  was  argued,  the 
detestable  principle  of  fermentation  was  due 
in  great  part  to  the  influence  of  the  sun  upon 
vegetable  matter;  and  it  was  suggested  that 
this  heavenly  body  should  be  abolished.  Oth 
ers,  pointing  out  that  this  was  a  matter  that 
,would  take  some  time,  advanced  the  theory  that 
large  tracts  of  open  country  should  be  shielded 
,from  the  sun's  rays  by  vast  tents  or  awnings. 
Bishop  Chuff,  with  his  customary  perspicacity, 
made  it  plain  that  one  of  the  chief  causes  of 
temptation  was  hot  weather,  which  causes  im 
moderate  thirst.  In  order  to  lessen  the  amount 
of  thirst  in  the  population  he  suggested  that  it 


6o  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

migKt  be  'feasible  to  shift  the  axis  of  the  earth, 
so  that  the  climate  of  the  United  States  would 
Jbecome  perceptibly  cooler  and  the  torrid  zone 
would  be  transferred  to  the  area  of  the  North 
Pole.  This  would  have  the  supreme  advan 
tage  of  melting  all  the  northern  ice-cap  and 
providing  the  temperate  belts  with  a  new  sup 
ply  of  fresh  water.  It  would  be  quite  easy 
(the  Bishop  insisted)  to  tilt  the  earth  on  its 
axis  if  everything  heavy  on  the  surface  of  the 
United  States  were  moved  up  to  Hudson's  Bay. 
Accordingly  he  began  to  make  arrangements 
to  have  the  complete  files  of  the  Congressional 
Record  moved  to  the  far  north  in  endless 
freight  trains. 

Dunraven  Bleak,  a  good  deal  exhausted  by 
his  efforts  to  keep  all  these  matters  carefully 
reported  in  the  columns  of  the  Evening  Bal 
loon,  was  ready  to  take  his  vacation.  As  a 
newspaper  man  he  was  able  to  get  a  passport  to 
go  into  the  country,  on  the  pretext  of  observing 
the  movements  of  the  troops  of  the  Pan-An- 
tis,  who  were  vigorously  attacking  the  dande 
lion  fields  and  gooseberry  vineyards.  He  had 
already  sent  his  wife  and  children  down  to  the 
seashore,  in  the  last  refugee  train  which  had 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  61 

left  the  city  before  Nature  was  declared  out 
law. 

It  was'  a  hot  morning',  and  having  wound  up 
his  work  at  the  office  he  was  sitting  in  a  small 
lunchroom  having  a,  shrimp  salad  sandwich 
and  a  glass  of  milk.  The  street  outside  was 
thronged  with  great  motor  ambulances  rum 
bling  in  from  the  suburbs,  carrying  the  wilted 
remains  of  berries  and  fruits  which  had  been 
dug  up  by  the  furious  legions  of  Chuff.  These 
were  hastily  transported  to  the  municipal  can 
nery  where  they  were  made  into  jams  and  pre^ 
serves  with  all  possible  speed,  before  fermenta 
tion  could  set  in.  Bleak  saw  them  pass  with 
'saddened  eyes. 

A  beautiful  gray  motor  car  drew  up  at  the 
curb,  and  honked  vigorously.  The  proprietor 
of  the  lunchroom,  thinking  that  possibly  the 
chauffeur  wanted  some  sandwiches,  left  the 
cash  register  and  crossed  the  pavement  eag 
erly.  Every  eye  in  the  restaurant  was  turned 
,upon  the  glittering  limousine,  whose  panels  of 
dove-throat  gray  shone  with  a  steely  lustre. 
In  a  moment  the  proprietor  returned  with  a 
large  basket  and  a  small  folded  paper,  looking 
puzzled.  He  glanced  about  the  room,  and  ap 
proached  Bleat. 


62  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

"I  guess  you're  the  guy,"  he  said,  and  handed 
the  editor  a  note  on  which  was  scrawled  in 
pencil 

To  the  Man  with  a  Penetrating  Gaze 
Who  Has  Just  Spilled  Some  Shrimp  Salad 
On  His  Palm  Beach  Trousers 

Bleak,  after  removing  the  shrimp,  opened  the 

paper.     Inside  he  read 

Please  bring  two  dozen  rye-tongue  sand 
wiches  and  as  much  shrimp  salad  as  the 
basket  will  hold.  Am  famished. 

QUIMBLETON. 

He  looked  at  the  restaurateur  in  surprise. 

"The  lady  said  you  were  to  get  the  grub  and 
put  it  in  this  basket,"  said  the  latter. 

"The  lady?"  inquired  Bleak. 

^The  dame  in  the  car,"  said  Isidor,  owner 
of  the  Busy  Wasp  Lunchroom. 

Bleak  obeyed  orders.  He  filled  the  basket 
with  tongue  sandwiches  and  a  huge  platter  of 
shrimp  salad,  paid  the  check,  and  carried  the 
burden  to  the  door  of  the  motor. 

At  the  wheel  sat  a  damsel  of  extraordinary 
beauty.  The  massive  proportions  of  the  enor 
mous  car  only  accentuated  the  perfection  of 
her  streamline  figure.  Her  chassis  was  ad- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  63 

mirable;  she  was  upholstered  in  a  sports  suit 
of  fawn-colored  whipcord;  and  her  sherry- 
brown  eyes  were  unmodified  by  any  dimming 
devices.  Before  Bleak  could  say  anything  she 
cried  eagerly,  "Get  in,  Mr.  Bleak!  I've  been 
looking  for  you  everywhere.  What  a  happy 
moment  this  is!" 

Bleak  handed  in  the  basket.  "Quimble- 
ton "  he  began. 

"I  know,"  she  said.  '"I'm  taking  you  to  him. 
Poor  fellow,  he  is  in  great  peril.  Get  in, 
please." 

By  the  time  Bleak  was  in  the  seat  beside  her, 
the  car  was  already  in  motion. 

"You  have  your  passport?"  she  said,  steer 
ing  through  the  tangled  traffic. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  He  could  not  help  stealing 
<a  sidelong  glance  at  this  bewitching  creature. 
Her  dainty  and  vivacious  face,  just  now  a  trifle 
sunburnt,  was  fixed  resolutely  upon  the  vehi 
cles  ahead.  On  the  rim  of  the  big  steering 
wheel  her  small  gloved  hands  gave  an  impres 
sion  of  great  capability.  Bleak  thought  that 
her  profile  seemed  oddly  familiar. 

"Haven't  I  seen  you  before?"  he  said. 

"Very  possibly.     Your  newspaper  printed 


64  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

my  picture  the  other  day,  with  some  rather  un 
complimentary  remarks." 

Bleak  was  nonplussed. 

"Very  stupid  of  me/'  he  said,  "but  I  don't 
seem  to  recall " 

"I  am  Miss  Chuff/*  she  said  calmly. 

The  editor's  brain  staggered. 

"Miss  Theodolinda  Chuff?''  he  said,  in 
amazement.  He  recalled  some  satirical  edi 
torials  the  Balloon  had  printed  concerning  the 
activities  of  the  Chuffs,  and  wondered  if  he 
were  being  kidnaped  for  court-martial  by  the 
Pan-Antis.  Evidently  the  use  of  Quimble- 
ton's  name  had  been  a  ruse. 

"It  was  unfair  of  you  to  make  use  of  Quim- 
bleton's  name  to  get  me  into  your  hands/'  he 
said  angrily. 

Miss  Chuff  turned  a  momentary  gaze  of 
amusement  upon  him,  as  they  passed  a  large 
tractor  drawing  several  truckloads  of  goose 
berry  plants. 

"You  don't  understand,"  she  said  demurely. 
"You  may  remember  that  Mr.  Quimbleton's 
card  gave  his  name  as  associate  director  of  the 
Happiness  Corporation?" 

"Yes,"  said  Bleak. 

"I  am  the  Director,"  she  said. 


THE  CHUFFS  WERE  RUTHLESS  ONCE 
THEIR  PASSIONS  WERE  AROUSED. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  67 

"You?  But  how  can  that  be?  Why,  your 
father—" 

"That's  just  why.  Any  one  who  had  to  live 
with  Father  would  be  sure  to  take  the  opposite 
side.  He's  a  Pan-Anti.  I'm  a  Pan-Pro. 
Those  poems  I  have  written  for  him  were 
merely  a  form  of  camouflage.  Besides,  they 
were  so  absurd  they  were  sure  to  do  harm  to 
the  cause.  That's  why  I  wrote  them.  I'll  ex 
plain  it  all  to  you  a  little  later." 

At  this  moment  they  were  held  up  by  an 
armed  guard  of  chuffs,  stationed  at  the  city 
Umits.  These  saluted  respectfully  on  seeing 
the  Bishop's  daughter,  but  examined  Bleak's 
passport  with  care.  Then  the  car  passed  on 
into  the  suburbs. 

As  they  neared  the  fields  of  actual  battle, 
Bleak  was  able  to  see  something  of  the  embit 
tered  nature  of  the  conflict.  In  the  hot  white 
sunlight  of  the  summer  morning  platoons  of 
Pan-Antis  could  be  seen  marching  across  the 
fields,  going  up  from  the  rest  centers  to  the 
firing  line.  In  one  place  a  shallow  trench  had 
been  dug,  from  which  the  chuffs  were  firing 
upon  a  blackberry  hedge  at  long  range.  One 
by  one  the  unprincipled  berries  were  being 
picked  off  by  expert  marksmen.  The  dusty 


68  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

highway  was  stained  with  ghastly  rivulets  and 
dribbles  of  scarlet  juices.  At  a  crossroads 
they  came  upon  a  group  of  chuffs  who  had 
shown  themselves  to  be  conscientious  objec 
tors:  these  were  being  escorted  to  an  intern 
ment  camp  where  they  would  be  horribly  pun 
ished  by  confinement  to  lecture  rooms  with 
Chautauqua  lecturers.  War  is  always  cruel, 
and  even  non-combatants  did  not  escape.  In 
the  heat  of  combat,  the  neutrality  of  an  orchard 
of  plum  trees  had  been  violated,  and  wagon- 
loads  of  the  innocent  fruit  were  being  carried 
away  into  slavery  and  worse  than  death.  A 
young  apple  tree  was  standing  in  front  of  a 
firing  squad,  and  Bleak  closed  his  eyes  rather 
than  watch  the  tragic  spectacle.  The  apples 
were  all  green,  and  too  young  to  ferment,  but 
the  chuffs  were  ruthless  once  their  passions 
[were  roused. 

They  passed  through  the  battle  zone,  and 
into  a  strip  of  country  where  pine  woods  flour 
ished  on  a  sandy  soil.  The  fragrant  breath  of 
sun-warmed  balsam  came  down  about  them, 
jand  Miss  Chuff  let  out  the  motor  as  though  to 
escape  from  the  scene  of  carnage  they  had  just 
witnessed. 

-Whither  are  we  bound?"  asked  the  editor, 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  69 

,with    pardonable    curiosity,    as    their    tires 
hummed  over  a  smooth  road. 

"Cana,  New  Jersey,"  said  Miss  Chuff, 
"where  poor  Quimbleton  is  in  hiding.  He  is 
in  very  sore  straits.  He  narrowly  escaped 
capture  after  the  parade  the  other  day.  I  man 
aged  to  get  him  smuggled  out  of  the  city  in  the 
same  ambulance  that  carried  Father's  horse. 
The  horse  was  drunk  and  Quim  was  sober. 
Wasn't  that  an  irony  of  fate?  But  I  prom 
ised  to  tell  you  how  I  became  associated  with 
the  Happiness  Corporation." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  TREACHERY  OF  MISS   CHUFF 

MY  story/'  said  Miss  Chuff,   as  the  car 
slid    along   the    road,    "is    rich    in 
pathos.     My    father,    as    you    can 
imagine,  is  an  impossible  man  to  live  with. 
My  poor  mother  was  taken  to  an  asylum  years 
ago.     Her  malady  takes  a  curious  form:  she 
is  never  violent,  but  spends  all  her  time  in  por 
ing  over  books,  magazines  and  papers.    Every 
time  she  finds  the  word  husband  in  print  she 
crosses  it  out  with  blue  pencil. 

"From  my  earliest  days  I  was  accustomed  to 
hear  very  little  else  but  talk  about  liquor.  The 
fairy  tales  that  most  children  are  allowed  to 
enjoy  merely  as  stories  were  explained  to  me 
by  my  father  as  allegories  bearing  upon  the 
sinister  seductions  of  drink.  Little  Red  Rid 
ing  Hood  and  the  Wolf,  for  instance,  became 
a  symbol  of  young  womanhood  pursued  by 
the  devouring  Bronx  cocktail.  The  princess 

from  whose  mouth  came  toads  and  snakes  was 

70 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  71 

(of  course)  a  princess  under  the  influence  of 
creme  de  menthe.  Cinderella  was  a  young 
girl  who  had  been  brought  low  by  taking  a 
dash  of  brandy  in  her  soup.  Every  dragon, 
with  which  good  fairy  tales  are  liberally  pro 
vided,  was  the  Demon  Rum.  It  is  really  amaz 
ing  what  stirring  prohibition  propaganda  fairy 
tales  contain  if  you  know  how  to  interpret 
them. 

"All  this  kind  of  palaver  naturally  roused 
my  childish  curiosity  as  to  the  subject  of  in 
toxicants.  But,  like  a  docile  daughter,  I  fell 
into  the  career  marked  out  for  me  by  my 
father.  I  became  a  militant  for  the  Pan-An- 
tis.  I  distributed  tracts  by  the  million ;  I  wrote 
a  little  poem  on  the  idea  that  the  gates  of  hell 
are  swinging  doors  with  slats.  I  can  honestly 
say  that  I  never  felt  any  real  hankering  for 
liquor  until  it  was  prohibited  altogether.  That 
is  a  curious  feature  of  human  nature,  that  as 
soon  as  you  forbid  a  thing  it  becomes  irre 
sistibly  alluring.  You  remember  the  story  of 
Mrs.  Bluebeard. 

"It  occurred  to  me,  after  booze  had  gone, 
that  it  was  a  sad  thing  that  I,  Bishop  Chuff's 
daughter,  who  was  devoting  my  life  to  the  pro 
hibition  cause,  should  have  not  the  slightest 


72  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

knowledge  of  the  nature  of  this  hideous  evil 
we  had  been  pursuing.  I  brooded  over  this  a 
great  deal,  and  fell  into  a  melancholy  state. 
The  thought  came  to  me,  there  must  be  some 
virtue  in  drink,  or  why  would  so  many  people 
have  stubbornly  contested  its  abolition?  It 
would  be  too  long  a  story  to  tell  you  all  the  de 
tails,  but  it  was  at  that  time  that  I  first  became 
aware  of  my  psychic  gift." 

"Your  psychic  gift?"  queried  Bleak,  won 
dering. 

She  turned  her  bright  beer-brown  eyes  upon 
him  gravely.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  am  an  alco 
holic  medium.  It  is  the  latest  and  most  supe 
rior  form  of  spiritualism.  By  gazing  upon 
crystal — particularly  upon  an  empty  tumbler 
— I  am  able  to  throw  myself  into  a  trance  in 
which  I  can  communicate  with  departed  spir 
its.  A  good  drink  does  not  die,  you  know :  its 
soul  hovers  radiantly  on  the  twentieth  plane, 
and  through  the  occult  power  of  a  medium 
those  who  loved  it  in  life  can  get  in  touch  with 
it  once  more.  Through  these  trances  of  mine 
I  have  been  privileged  to  put  many  bereaved 
ones  in  communication  with  their  dear  departed 
spirits.  To  hear  the  table-rappings  and  the 
shouts  of  ecstasy  you  would  perceive  that  a 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  73 

great  deal  of  the  anguish  of  separation  is  as 
suaged." 

"Do  you  often  have  these  trances?"  said 
Bleak,  with  a  certain  wistfulness. 

"They  are  not  hard  to  induce/'  she  said. 
"All  that  is  necessary  for  a  seance  is  a  round 
table,  preferably  of  some  highly  polished 
brown  wood,  a  brass  rail  for  the  worshipers 
to  put  their  feet  on,  and  an  empty  tumbler  to 
concentrate  the  power  of  yearning.  If  those 
present  all  wish  hard  enough  there  is  sure  to 
be  a  successful  reunion  with  the  Beyond." 

"But  surely,"  said  the  fascinated  editor, 
:"surely  not  any — well,  actual  materialization?" 

"Oh,  no;  but  the  communion  of  souls  pro 
duces  quite  sufficient  results.  You  see,  so 
many  fine  spirits  passed  over  at  once,  suddenly, 
on  that  First  of  July,  that  the  twentieth  plane 
is  quite  thronged  with  them,  and  they  are  just 
as  eager  to  come  back  as  their  friends  could 
be  to  welcome  them.  One  good  yearn  deserves 
another,  as  we  say.  The  only  time  when 
these  seances  fail  is  when  some  inharmonious 
soul  is  present — some  personality  not  com 
pletely  en  rapport  with  the  spirit  of  the  gather 
ing.  I  remember,  for  instance,  an  occasion 
when  a  gentleman  from  Kentucky  had  most 


74  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

ardently  desired  to  get  into  communication 
with  the  astrals  of  some  mint  juleps  he  had 
loved  very  deeply  in  life.  Everything  seemed 
propitious,  but  though  I  struggled  hard  I  sim 
ply  could  not  get  the  julep  spirit  to  descend 
to  our  mortal  plane.  Finally  I  made  inquiry 
and  found  that  one  of  the  guests  was  a  root- 
beer  manufacturer.  Of  course  you  may  say 
that  was  petty  jealousy  on  the  side  of  the  de 
parted,  but  even  these  vanished  spirits  have 
their  human  phases." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"You  can  imagine,"  she  said,  "what  a  per 
plexity  I  was  in  when  I  discovered  these  hith 
erto  unsuspected  powers  in  myself.  Was  I 
justified  in  putting  them  to  use,  for  the  good 
of  humanity?  And  wasn't  there  a  certain  pa 
thetic  significance  in  the  fact  that  I,  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  man  who  had  done  so  much  to  put 
these  poor  lonely  spirits  into  the  Beyond, 
should  be  made  their  sole  channel  of  reunion 
with  their  bereaved  and  sorrowing  adorers? 
In  all  his  harangues,  I  had  never  heard  my 
Father  attack  anything  but  the  actual  drink 
ing  of  liquor.  This  form  of  communication 
seemed  to  me  to  solve  so  many  problems.  And 
it  was  in  this  way  that  I  first  met  Virgil." 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  75 

''Virgil?'1  said  Bleak,  absent-mindedly,  for 
he  was  wondering  whether  he  might  be  privi 
leged  to  attend  one  of  these  seances. 

"Virgil  Quimbleton,"  she  said.  "In  the 
early  days  of  my  trances  I  was  much  haunted 
by  the  spirit  of  a  certain  cocktail — blended,  I 
believe,  of  champagne  and  angostura — which 
insisted  that  it  would  be  inconsolable  until  it 
could  get  in  contact  with  Quimbleton  and  re 
assure  him  as  to  the  certainty  of  its  existence 
beyond  mortal  bars.  The  deep  affection  and 
old  comradeship  evidently  cherished  between 
Quimbleton  and  this  cocktail  was  very  touch 
ing,  and  I  was  more  than  happy  to  be  able  to 
effect  their  reunion.  It  was  for  this  reason 
that  Quimbleton,  under  a  careful  disguise, 
came  to  live  next  door  to  us  on  Caraway  Street. 
I  would  go  out  into  the  garden  and  have  a 
trance;  Quimbleton,  poor  bereaved  fellow, 
.would  sit  by  me  in  the  dusk  and  revel  with  the 
spirit  of  his  dear  comrade.  This  common  bond 
soon  ripened  into  love,  and  we  became  be 
trothed." 

She  stripped  off  one  of  her  gloves  and 
showed  Bleak  a  beautiful  amethyst  ring. 

"This  is  my  engagement  ring/'  she  said. 
"It's  a  very  precious  symbol,  for  Quimbleton 


76  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

explained  to  me  that  the  amethyst  is  a  talis 
man  against  drunkenness.  I  looked  it  up  in 
the  dictionary,  and  found  that  he  was  right. 
As  long  as  I  wear  this  ring  the  departed  spir 
its  have  no  ill  effect  upon  me.  But  I  some 
times  wonder,"  she  added  with  a  sigh, 
"whether  Virgil  really  loves  me  for  myself,  or 
only  as  a  kind  of  swinging  door  into  the  spirit 
world." 

The  car  was  now  approaching  an  open  belt 
of  country.  Behind  them  lay  the  dark  line  of 
pine  woods;  far  off,  across  a  wide  shimmer  of 
sun  and  sandy  fields  sweetened  by  purple  clover 
and  flowering  grasses,  was  a  blue  ribbon  of 
sea.  But  even  in  this  remote  shelf  of  New: 
Jersey  the  implacable  hand  of  Chuff  was  at 
work.  From  a  meadow  near  by  they  saw  an 
observation  balloon  going  up  and  the  wind 
lass  unwinding  its  cable.  A  huge  paraboloid 
breath-detector  (or  breathoscope)  was  sta 
tioned  on  a  low  ridge.  This  terribly  ingenious 
machine,  which  had  just  been  invented  by  the 
pan-antis,  records  the  vibrations  of  any  alco 
holic  breath  within  five  miles,  and  indicates  on 
a  sensitive  dial  the  exact  direction  and  distance 
of  the  breath.  It  was  only  too  evident  that 
the  search  for  Quimbleton  was  going  forward 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  77 

with  fierce  system.  In  the  shelter  of  an  old 
barn  they  heard  a  cork-popping  machine-gun 
going  off  rapidly.  This  was  one  of  the  most 
atrocious  ruses  employed  by  the  chuffs  in  their 
search  for  conscientious  drinkers.  The  gun 
fires  no  projectile,  but  produces  a  pleasant  de 
tonation  like  the  swift  and  repeated  drawing 
of  corks.  Set  up  in  the  neighborhood  of  any 
bottle-habited  man,  it  will  invariably  lure  him 
into  an  approach.  Near  it  was  an  ice-tinkling 
device,  iised  for  the  same  purposes  of  strata 
gem. 

"Poor  Virgil!"  said  Miss  Chuff  with  a  sigh. 
"I'm  afraid  he  has  had  a  grievous  ordeal.  We 
must  run  carefully  now,  so  as  not  to  give  him 
away." 

Fortunately  Miss  Chuff's  presence  at  the 
wheel,  and  Bleak's  credentials  as  war  cor 
respondent,  enabled  them  to  pass  several  scout 
ing  parties  of  chuff  uhlans  without  suspicion. 
In  this  way  they  neared  the  extensive  grounds 
surrounding  the  Federal  Home  for  Inebriates, 
Cana,  N.  J.  This  magnificent  Gothic  build 
ing,  already  showing  some  signs  of  decay  from 
,two  years  of  vacancy,  stands  on  a  slight  emi 
nence  among  what  the  real  estate  agents  call 
shade/'  with  a  fine  and  carefully  calcu- 


78  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

lated  view  over  one  of  the  largest  bodies  of  un- 
drinkable  fluid  known  to  man,  the  Atlantic 
Ocean. 

The  car  turned  into  a  narrow  sandy  road 
skirting  one  side  of  the  walled  park.  This  by- 
(way  was  completely  screened  from  outside  ob 
servation  by  the  high  bulwark  of  the  Home 
and  by  thick  masses  of  rhododendron  shrub 
bery.  At  a  bend  in  the  road  Miss  Chuff  halted 
the  motor,  and  motioned  Bleak  to  descend. 

"Now  we  will  look  for  the  persecuted  pa 
triot,"  she  said. 

Bleak  took  charge  of  the  basket  of  food,  and 
Miss  Chuff  drew  a  small  rope  ladder  from  a 
locker  under  the  driver's  seat.  This  she  threw 
deftly  up  to  the  top  of  the  wall,  hooking  it  upon 
the  iron  spikes.  Bleak  politely  ascended  first, 
and  they  scaled  the  wall,  dropping  down  into 
a  tangle  of  underbrush. 

"I  left  him  in  here  somewhere,"  said  the  girl, 
as  they  set  off  along  a  narrow  path.  "This  was 
obviously  the  best  place  to  hide,  as,  except  for 
Father's  horse,  the  Home  hasn't  had  an  inmate 
for  two  years.  There  was  some  talk  of  Father 
making  this  the  headquarters  of  the  Great  Gen 
eral  Strafe  in  this  campaign,  but  I  don't  believe 
they  have  done  so  yet." 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  79 

:"Hush!"  said  Bleak;.  *What  is  that  I 
hear?" 

A  dull,  regular,  recurrent  sound,  a  sort  of 
rasping  sigh,  stole  through  the  thickets.  They 
iboth  listened  in  some  agitation. 

"Sounds  a  little  like  an  airplane,  with  one 
.engine  missing,"  said  Bleak. 

"Can  it  be  the  sea,  the  surf  breaking  on  the 
£and?"  asked  Miss  Chuff. 

This  seemed  probable,  and  they  accepted  it 
as  such;  but  as  they  pushed  on  through  the 
tangle  of  saplings  and  bushes  the  sound  seemed 
to  localize  itself  on  their  left.  Bleak  peeped 
cautiously  through  a  leafy  screen,  and  then 
beckoned  the  girl  to  his  side.  They  looked 
down  into  a  warm  sandy  hollow,  overgrown 
and  sheltered  by  a  large  rhododendron  with 
knotted  branches  and  dry,  shiny  leaves.  Curled 
up  on  the  sand  bank,  in  the  unconsciously  pa 
thetic  posture  of  sheer  exhaustion,  lay  Quim- 
bleton,  asleep.  A  droning  snore  buzzed  heav 
ily  from  where  he  lay. 

"Poor  Virgil!"  said  Miss  Chuff.  "How 
tired  he  looks." 

He  did,  indeed.  The  gray  and  silver  uni 
form  was  ragged  and  soil-stained;  his  boots 
were  white  with  dust;  his  face  was  unshaved, 


80  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

though  a  razor  lay  beside  him,  and  it  seemed 
that  he  had  been  trying  to  strop  it  on  his  Sam 
Browne  belt.  His  pipe,  filled  but  unlit,  had 
fallen  from  his  weary  fingers ;  beside  him  was 
an  empty  match-box  and  tragic  evidence  of  a 
number  of  unsuccessful  attempts  to  get  fire 
from  a  Swedish  tandsticker.  Crumpled  un 
der  the  elbow  of  the  indomitable  idealist  was 
a  much-thumbed  copy  of  The  Bartender's, 
Benefactor,  or  How  to  Mix  1001  Drinks,  in 
which  he  had  been  seeking  imaginary  solace 
when  he  fell  asleep.  Near  his  head  ticked  a: 
pocket  alarm  clock,  which  they  found  set  to 
gong  at  two  o'clock. 

"It  seems  a  shame  to  wake  him,"  said 
Theodolinda.  Her  brown  eyes  liquefied  and 
effervesced  with  tenderness,  until  (as  Bleak 
thought  to  himself)  they  were  quite  the  color 
of  brandy  and  soda,  without  too  much  soda. 

The  sleeper  stirred,  and  a  radiant  smile 
passed  over  his  unconscious  features — a  smile 
of  pure  and  heavenly  beatitude. 

"Say  when,  Jerry,"  he  murmured. 

"He's  dreaming!"  cried  Theodolinda.  "See, 
his  soul  is  far  away!" 

"Two  years  away,"  said  Bleak  enviously. 
"Let  him  go  to  it  while  we  reconnoiter.  I  be- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  81 

lieve  in  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Sleep. 
He  didn't  intend  to  wake  up  just  yet,  you  can 
see  by  the  alarm  clock." 

"That's  a  good  idea/'  she  agreed.  "I'd  like 
to  find  out  whether  we're  in  any  immediate 
danger  of  pursuit." 

They  set  the  basket  of  food  beside  Quitn- 
bleton,  and  carefully  moved  on  through  the 
strip  of  young  trees  until  they  neared  the 
broad  lawns  that  surround  the  Home  for 
Inebriates.  Miss  Chuff,  spying  delicately 
through  a  leafy  chink,  gave  a  cry  of  alarm. 

"Heavens!"  she  said.  "The  place  is  full  of 
people !" 

To  their  amazement,  they  saw  the  white  ban 
ner  of  the  Pan-Antis  floating  on  one  of  the 
towers  of  the  building,  and  the  grounds  about 
the  Home  blackened  with  a  moving  throng. 
Though  they  were  too  far  distant  to  discern 
any  details  of  the  crowd,  it  was  plain  (from 
the  curious  to-and-fro  of  the  gathering,  like 
the  seething  of  an  ant-hill)  that  its  units  were 
imbued  with  some  strong  emotion.  At  that 
distance  it  might  have  been  anger,  or  fear,  or 
(more  appropriate  to  the  surroundings)  drink. 

They  hurried  back  to  Quimbleton's  hiding 
place,  and  found  him  already  sitting  up  and 


82  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRYi 

attacking  the  shrimp  salad.  Bleak  courteously 
averted  his  eyes  from  the  affectionate  embrace 
of  the  lovers. 

"Bless  your  heart  for  this  grub/'  said  Quim- 
J)leton  to  Bleak.  "As  soon  as  I  smelt  that 
^hrimp  salad  I  woke  up.  Do  you  know,  I 
haven't  eaten  for  two  days." 

"Oh  Virgil!"  cried  Theodolinda,  "what  does 
this  mean — all  the  crowd  round  the  Home? 
Mr.  Bleak  and  I  looked  up  there,  and  the  place 
is  simply  packed.  You  can't  stay  undiscov 
ered  long  with  all  those  people  around.  Who 
are  they,  anyway?" 

Quimbleton  had  to  delay  his  reply  until 
deglutition  had  mastered  a  bulky  consignment 
of  shrimp.  His  large,  resolute  face,  while 
somewhat  marred  by  hardships,  showed  no 
trace  of  panic. 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  he  said.  "It  is  the 
latest  step  on  the  route  of  all  evil  taken  by  that 
fanatical  person  whom  I  shall  presently  call 
father-in-law.  He  is  not  content  with  arrest 
ing  people  found  drinking.  This  morning 
they  began  to  seize  people  who  think  about 
drinking.  Any  one  who  is  guilty  of  thinking, 
in  an  affirmative  way,  about  liquor,  is  to  be 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  83 

interned  in  the  Federal  Home  for  a  course  in 
mental  healing." 

"But  how  can  they  tell  ?."  asked  Bleak,  nerv 
ously. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Quimbleton.  "Perhaps 
they  have  a  kind  of  Third  Degree,  flash  a  sei- 
del  of  beer  on  you  suddenly,  and  if  you  make 
an  involuntary  gesture  of  pleasure,  you're  con 
victed.  Perhaps  they've  invented  an  instru 
ment  that  tells  what  you  think  about.  Per 
haps  they  just  arrest  you  on  suspicion.  At  any 
rate  all  the  folks  who  have  been  thinking  about 
booze  are  being  collected  and  sent  over  here. 
I  know  because  I've  seen  most  of  my  friends 
arriving  all  morning.  I  suppose  they'll  get  me 
next.  I  don't  much  care  as  long  as  I've  had 
something  to  eat." 

'Virgil,  dear,"  said  Miss  Chuff,  "you 
-Mustn't  give  up  hope  now,  after  being  so  brave. 
You  know  I'll  stand  by  you  to  the  end — to  the 
very  dregs." 

"If  only  I  had  some  disguise,"  said  Quim 
bleton  sadly,  "it  wouldn't  be  so  bad.  But  I 
must  confess  that  these  breath  detectors  and 
other  unscrupulous  instruments  they  use  have 
gather  unnerved  me." 

Bleak  suddenly  remembered,  and  thrust  his 


84  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

hand  in  his  hip-pocket.  He  pulled  out  the 
hank  of  white  beard  that  had  floated  down 
from  the  airplane  a  few  days  before.  It  was 
much  crumpled,  but  intact. 

"Good  man !"  cried  Quimbleton.  "My  jolly 
old  beard!"  He  clapped  it  onto  his  face  and 
beamed  hopefully.  "Now,  if  there  were  some 
way  of  getting  rid  of  this  tell-tale  uni 
form " 

They  discussed  this  problem  at  some  length, 
sitting  in  the  sheltered  bowl  of  sand,  while 
Quimbleton  finished  his  lunch.  Bleak's  sug 
gestion  of  stitching  together  a  sort  of  Robin 
son  Crusoe  suit  of  rhododendron  leaves  did  not 
meet  Quimbleton's  approval. 

"No  Robinson  trousseau  for  me,"  he  said. 
"I  thought  of  pasting  together  the  leaves  of 
The  Bartender's  Benefactor,  but  I'm  afraid 
that  would  be  rather  damning.  No,  I  don't 
see  what  to  do." 

"I  have  it!"  said  Theodolinda,  gleefully. 
"I've  got  a  sewing  kit  in  the  car — we'll  unrip 
the  upholstery  and  I  can  stitch  you  up  a  suit 
in  no  time.  At  least  it  will  be  better  than  the 
C.  P.  H.  get-up,  which  would  take  you  in  front 
of  a  firing  squad  if  it  were  seen." 

This   seemed   a  good   idea.     Bleak  volun- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  85 

teered  to  escort  Miss  Chuff  back  to  the  car  and 
help  her  rip  the  covers  off  the  cushions.  This 
was  done,  and  they  carried  back  to  Quimble- 
ton's  hiding  place  many  yards  of  pale  lilac  col 
ored  twill  (or  whatever  it  is)  and  a  flask  of 
iced  tea.  In  spite  of  distant  sounds  of  war 
fare,  the  time  passed  pleasantly  enough.  Miss 
Chuff  cut  out  and  stitched  assiduously ;  Quim- 
bleton  and  Bleak,  under  her  directions,  sewed 
on  the  buttons  snipped  from  the  uniform. 
Birds  twittered  in  the  greenery  about  them, 
and  they  all  felt  something  of  the  elation  of  a 
picnic  when  the  garments  were  done  and  Quim- 
bleton  retired  to  a  neighboring  copse  to  make 
the  change.  The  other  two  were  too  seriously 
concerned  for  his  welfare  to  laugh  when  they 
saw  him. 

"Splendid !"  cried  Bleak.  "Now  you  can  lie 
down  in  Miss  Chuff's  car  and  if  any  one  looks 
in  they'll  just  think  you're  part  of  the  furnish 
ings/' 

"And  I  think  we'd  better  get  back  to  the  car 
without  delay,"  said  Theodolinda.  "I'd  like  to 
get  you  out  of  this  danger  zone  as  soon  as  pos 
sible." 

They  hastened  back  to  the  wall,  scaled  it 
with  the  rope  ladder — and  stared  in  dismay. 


86  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRV 

The  car  had  gone.  They  could  see  it  far  down 
the  road,  guarded  by  a  group  of  Pan-Antis.  A 
cordon  of  the  enemy  had  been  thrown  com 
pletely  round  the  Homeland  escape  was  im 
possible.  Worse  still,  the  treachery  of  Miss 
Chuff  must  have  been  discovered,  and  they 
trembled  to  think  what  retaliation  the  Bishop 
might  devise. 

In  this  moment  of  crisis  Quimbleton  re 
gained  his  customary  hardihood.  Quilted  in 
his  lilac  garments,  with  the  white  hedge  of 
beard  tossing  in  the  breeze,  he  looked  the  dash 
ing  leader. 

"There's  only  one  thing  to  do,"  he  said. 
"We're  surrounded  in  this  place.  We  must  go 
to  the  Home,  make  common  cause  with  the 
(prisoners  there,  and  lead  them  in  a  sudden 
sally  of  escape." 


CHAPTER  VI 

DEPARTED  SPIRITS 

IF  Bishop  Chuff  desired  to  make  people  stop 
thinking  about  alcohol,  his  plan  of  seiz 
ing  them  and  shutting  them  up  in  the 
grounds  of  the  Federal  Home  at  Cana  was  a 
quaint  way  of  attaining  this  purpose.  For  all 
the  victims,  who  had  been  suddenly  arrested  in 
the  course  of  their  daily  concerns,  accused  (be 
fore  a  rum-head  court  martial)  of  harboring 
illicit  alcoholic  desires,  and  driven  over  to  Cana 
in  crowded  motor-trucks,  now  had  very  little 
else  to  brood  about.  In  the  golden  light  and 
fragrance  of  a  summer  afternoon,  here  they 
were  surrounded  by  all  the  apparatus  to  re 
strain  alcoholic  excess,  and  not  even  the  slight 
est  exhilaration  of  spirit  to  justify  the  depres 
sing  scene.  It  was  annoying  to  see  frequent 
notices  such  as:  This  Entrance  for  Brandy- 
Topers;  or  Vodka  Patients  in  This  Ward;  or 

Inmates  Must  Not  Bite  Off  the  Door-Knobs. 

87 


88  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

It  seemed  carrying  a  jest  too  far  when  these 
citizens,  most  of  whom  had  not  even  smelt  a 
drink  in  two  years,  found  themselves  billeted 
into  padded  cells  and  confronted  by  rows 
of  strait- jackets.  Moreover,  the  Home  had 
lain  unused  for  many  months:  it  was  dusty, 
dilapidated,  and  of  a  moldy  savor.  Some  of 
the  unwilling  visitors,  finding  that  the  grounds 
included  a  strip  of  sandy  beach,  took  their  or 
deal  with  reasonable  philosophy.  "Since  we 
are  to  be  slaves/'  they  said,  "at  least  let's  have 
some  serf  bathing."  And  donning  (with  a 
shudder)  the  rather  gruesome  padded  bathing 
suits  they  found  in  the  lockers,  they  went  off 
for  a  swim.  Others,  of  a  humorous  turn,  de 
rived  a  certain  rudimentary  amusement  in 
studying  the  garden  marked  Reserved  for  Pa 
tients  with  Insane  Delusions,  where  they  found 
a  very  excellent  relief-model  of  the  battle 
ground  of  the  Marne,  laid  out  by  a  former  in 
mate  who  had  imagined  himself  to  be  General 
Joffre.  But  most  of  them  stood  about  in 
groups,  talking  bitterly. 

Quimbleton,  therefore,  found  a  receptive  au 
dience  for  his  Spartacus  scheme  of  organizing 
this  band  of  downtrodden  victims  into  a  fight 
ing  force.  He  gathered  them  into  the  dining- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  89 

hall  of  the  Home  and  addressed  them  in  spir 
ited  language. 

"My  friends"  (he  said),  "unaccustomed  as 
I  am  to  public  speaking,  I  feel  it  my  duty  to 
administer  a  few  remarks  on  the  subject  of  our 
present  situation. 

"And  the  first  thought  that  comes  to  my 
mind,  candidly,  is  this,  that  we  must  give 
Bishop  Chuff  credit  for  a  quality  we  never 
imagined  him  to  possess.  That  quality,  gen 
tlemen,  is  a  sense  of  humor.  I  hear  some  dis 
sent;  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  to  be  somewhat 
humorous  that  this  gathering,  composed  of 
men  who  were  accustomed,  in  the  good  old 
days,  to  carry  their  liquor  like  gentlemen, 
should  now,  when  they  have  been  cold  sober 
,for  two  years,  be  incarcerated  in  this  humiliat 
ing  place,  surrounded  by  the  morbid  relics  of 
those  weaker  souls  who  found  their  grog  too 
strong  for  them. 

"I  say  therefore  that  we  must  give  Bishop 
Chuff  credit  for  a  sense  of  humor.  It  makes 
him  all  the  more  deadly  enemy.  Yet  I  think 
we  will  have  the  laugh  on  him  yet,  in  a  man 
ner  I  shall  presently  describe.  For  the  Bishop 
has  what  may  be  denominated  a  single-tract 
mind.  He  undoubtedly  imagines  that  we  will 


90  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

submit  tamely  to  this  outrage.  He  has  sur 
rounded  us  with  guards.  He  expects  us  to  be 
meek.  In  my  experience,  the  meek  inherit  the 
dearth.  Let  us  not  be  meek!" 

There  was  a  shout  of  applause,  and  Quim- 
bleton's  salient  of  horse-hair  beard  waved  tri 
umphantly  as  he  gathered  strength.  His  burly 
figure  in  the  lilac  upholstering  dominated  the 
audience.  He  went  on: 

"And  what  is  our  crime?  That  we  have 
nourished,  in  the  privacy  of  our  own  intellects, 
treasonable  thoughts  or  desires  concerning  al 
cohol!  Gentlemen,  it  is  the  first  principle  of 
common  law  that  a  man  cannot  be  indicted  for 
thinking  a  crime.  There  must  be  some  overt 
act,  some  evidence  of  illegal  intention.  Can  a 
man  be  deprived  of  freedom  for  carrying  con 
cealed  thoughts?  If  so,  we  might  as  well  abol 
ish  the  human  mind  itself.  Which  Bishop 
Chuff  and  his  flunkeys  would  gladly  do,  I  doubt 
not,  for  they  themselves  would  lose  nothing 
thereby." 

Vigorous  clapping  greeted  this  sally. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  cried  Quimbleton, 
"though  we  follow  a  lost  cause,  and  even 
though  the  gooseberry  and  the  raisin  and  the 
apple  be  doomed,  let  us  see  it  through  with  gal- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  91 

lantry !  The  enemy  has  mobilized  dreadful  en 
gines  of  war  against  us.  Let  us  retort  in  kind. 
He  has  tanks  in  the  field — let  us  retort  with 
tankards.  They  tell  me  there  is  a  warship  in 
the  offing,  to  shell  us  into  submission.  Very 
well :  if  he  has  gobs,  let  us  retort  with  goblets. 
If  he  has  deacons,  let  us  parry  him  with  de 
canters.  Chuff  has  put  us  here  under  the  pre 
text  of  being  drunk.  Very  well :  then  let  us  be 
drunk.  Let  us  go  down  in  our  cups,  not  in  our 
saucers.  Where  there's  a  swill,  there's  a  way ! 
Let  us  be  sot  in  our  ways/'  he  added,  sotto  voce. 

Terrific  uproar  followed  this  fine  outburst. 
Quimbleton  had  to  calm  the  frenzy  by  gestur 
ing  for  silence. 

"I  hear  some  natural  queries,"  he  said. 
"Some  one  asks  'How?'  To  this  I  shall  pres 
ently  explain  'Here's  how.'  Bear  with  me  a 
moment. 

"My  friends,  it  would  be  idle  for  us  to  at 
tempt  the  great  task  before  us  relying  merely 
on  ourselves.  In  such  great  crises  it  is  neces 
sary  to  call  upon  a  Higher  Power  for  strength 
and  succor.  This  is  no  mere  brawl,  no  hap 
hazard  scuffle:  it  is  the  battle-ground — if  I 
were  jocosely  minded  I  might  say  it  is  the  bot 
tle-ground — of  a  great  principle.  If,  gentle- 


92  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

men,  I  wished  to  harrow  your  souls,  I  would 
ask  you  to  hark  back  in  memory  to  the  fine  old 
days  when  brave  men  and  lovely  women  sat 
down  at  the  same  table  with  a  glass  of  wine, 
or  a  mug  of  ale,  and  no  one  thought  any  the 
worse.  I  would  ask  you  to  remember  the  color 
of  the  wine  in  the  goblet,  how  it  caught  the 
light,  how  merrily  it  twinkled  with  beaded  bub 
bles  winking  at  the  brim,  as  some  poet  has  ob 
served.  If  I  wanted  to  harrow  you,  gentle 
men,  I  would  recall  to  you  little  tables,  little 
round  tables,  set  out  under  the  trees  on  the 
lawn  of  some  country  inn,  where  the  enchant 
ing  music  of  harp  and  fiddle  twangled  on  the 
summer  air,  where  great  bowls  of  punch 
chimed  gently  as  the  lumps  of  ice  knocked  on 
the  thin  crystal.  The  little  tables  were  spread 
under  the  trees,  and  then,  later  on,  perhaps, 
the  customers  were  spread  under  the  tables. — I 
would  ask  you  to  recall  the  manly  seidel  of 
dark  beer  as  you  knew  it,  the  bitter  chill  of  it 
as  it  went  down,  the  simple  felicity  it  induced 
in  the  care-burdened  mind.  I  could  quote  to 
you  poet  after  poet  who  has  nourished  his  song 
upon  honest  malt  liquor.  I  need  only  think 
of  Mr.  Masefield,  who  has  put  these  manly 
words  in  the  mouth  of  his  pirate  mate: 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  93 

Oh  some  are  fond  of  Spanish  wine,  and  some 

are  fond  of  French, 
And  some'll  swallow  tea  and  stuff  fit  only  for 

a  wench, 
\But  I'm  for  right  Jamaica  till  I  roll  beneath  the 

bench! 

Oh  some  are  fond  of  fiddles  and  a  song  well 

sung, 
And  some  are  all  for  music  for  to  lilt  upon  the 

tongue; 
But  mouths  were  made  for  tankards,  and  for 

sucking  at  the  bung!'' 

This  apparently  artless  oratory  was  begin 
ning  to  have  its  effect.  Loud  huzzas  filled  the 
hall.  These  touching  words  had  evoked  wist 
ful  memories  hidden  deep  in  every  heart.  Old 
wounds  were  reopened  and  bled  afresh. 

Again  Quimbleton  had  to  call  for  silence. 

"I  will  recite  to  you,"  he  said,  "a  ditty  that 
I  have  composed  myself.  It  is  called  A  Chanty 
of  Departed  Spirits" 

In  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion  he  began : 

The  earth  is  grown  puny  and  pallid, 

The  earth  is  grown  gouty  and  gray, 
For  whiskey  no  longer  is  valid 


94  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

And  wine  has  been  voted  away — 
As  for  beer,  we  no  longer  will  swill  it 

In  riotous  rollicking  spree; 
The  little  hot  dogs  in  the  skillet 

Will  have  to  be  sluiced  down  with  tea. 

O  ales  that  were  creamy  like  lather! 
O  beers  that  were  foamy  like  suds! 

0  fizz  that  I  loved  like  a  father! 

0  fie  on  the  drinks  that  are  duds! 

1  sat  by  the  doors  that  were  slatted 
And  the  stuff  had  a  surf  like  the  sea — 

No  vintage  was  anywhere  vatted 
Too  strong  for  ventripotent  me! 

7  wallowed  in  waves  that  were  tidal, 

But  yet  I  was  never  unmoored; 
And  after  the  twentieth  seidel 

My  syllables  still  were  assured. 
I  never  was  forced  to  cut  cable 

And  drift  upon  perilous  shores, 
To  get  honie  I  was  perfectly  able, 

Erect,  or  at  least  on  all  fours. 

Although  I  was  often  some  swiller, 

1  never  was  fuddled  or  blowzed; 
{My  hand  was  still  firm  on  the  tiller, 

No  matter  how  deep  I  caroused; 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  95 

But  now  they  have  put  an  embargo 
On  jazz-juice  that  tingles  the  spine, 

We  cant  even  cozen  a  cargo 
Of  harmless  old  gooseberry  wine! 

But  no  legislation  can  daunt  us: 

The  drinks  that  we  knew  never  die: 
Their  spirits  will  come  back  to  haunt  us 

And  whimper  and  hover  near  by. 
The  spookists  insist  that  communion 

Exists  with  the  souls  that  we  lose — 
And  so  we  may  count  on  reunion 

With  all  that's  immortal  of  Booze. 

Those  spirits  we  loved  have  departed 

To  some  psychical  twentieth  plane; 
But  still  we  will  not  be  downhearted, 

We'll  soon  greet  our  loved  ones  again — • 
To  lighten  our  drouth  and  our  tedium 

Whenever  our  moments  would  sag, 
We'll  call  in  a  spiritist  medium 

And  go  on  a  psychical  jag! 

As  the  frenzy  of  cheering  died  away,  Quim- 
bleton's  face  took  on  the  glow  of  simple  be- 
nignance  that  Bleak  had  first  observed  at  the 
time  of  the  julep  incident  in  the  Balloon  office. 
The  flush  of  a  warm,  impulsive  idealism  over- 


96  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY. 

spread  his  genial  features.  It  was  the  face  of 
one  who  deeply  loved  his  fellow-men. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "now  I  am  able  to 
say,  in  all  sincerity,  Here's  How.  I  have  great 
honor  in  presenting  to  you  my  betrothed  fian 
cee,  Miss  Theodolinda  Chuff.  Do  not  be 
startled  by  the  name,  gentlemen.  Miss  Chuff, 
the  daughter  of  our  arch-enemy,  is  wholly  in 
sympathy  with  us.  She  is  the  possessor  (hap 
pily  for  us)  of  extraordinary  psychic  powers. 
I  have  persuaded  her  to  demonstrate  them  for 
our  benefit.  If  you  will  follow  my  instruc 
tions  implicitly,  you  will  have  the  good  for 
tune  of  witnessing  an  alcoholic  seance." 

Miss  Chuff,  very  pale,  but  obviously  glad 
to  put  her  spiritual  gift  at  the  disposal  of  her 
lover,  was  escorted  to  the  platform  by  Bleak. 
The  editor  had  been  coached  beforehand  by 
Quimbleton  as  to  the  routine  of  the  seance. 

"The  first  requirement,"  said  Quimbleton 
to  the  awe-struck  gathering,  "is  to  put  your 
selves  in  the  proper  frame  of  mind.  For  that 
purpose  I  will  ask  you  all  to  stand  up,  placing 
one  foot  on  the  rung  of  a  chair.  Kindly  imag 
ine  yourselves  standing  with  one  foot  on  a 
brass  rail.  You  will  then  summon  to  mind, 
with  all  possible  accuracy  and  vividness,  the 


qtavwt 

WH.L1RM1 


WITH  BLEAK  PLAYING  THE  ROLE  OP 
CUSTOMER  HE  THEN  WENT  THROUGH 
A  PANTOMIME  OF  SERVING  IMAGI 
NARY  DRINKS. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  99 

scenes  of  some  bar-room  which  was  once  dear 
to  you.  I  will  also  ask  you  to  concentrate 
your  mental  faculties  upon  some  beverage 
which  was  once  your  favorite.  Please  re 
hearse  in  imagination  the  entire  ritual  which 
was  once  so  familiar,  from  the  inquiring  look 
of  the  bartender  down  to  the  final  clang  of  the 
cash-register.  A  visualization  of  the  old  free 
lunch  counter  is  also  advisable.  All  these  de 
tails  will  assist  the  medium  to  trance  herself." 
Bleak  in  the  meantime  had  carried  a  small 
table  on  the  platform,  and  placed  an  empty 
glass  upon  it.  Miss  Chuff  sat  down  at  this 
table,  and  gazed  intently  at  the  glass.  Quim- 
bleton  produced  a  white  apron  from  some 
where,  and  tied  it  round  his  burly  form.  With 
Bleak  playing  the  role  of  customer  he  then 
went  through  a  pantomime  of  serving  imag 
inary  drinks.  His  representation  of  the  now 
vanished  type  of  the  bartender  was  so  admir 
ably  realistic  that  it  brought  tears  to  the  eyes 
of  more  than  one  in  the  gathering.  The  ed 
itor,  with  appropriate  countenance  and  ges 
ture,  dramatized  the  motions  of  ordering, 
drinking,  and  paying  for  his  invisible  refresh 
ment.  His  pantomime  was  also  accurate  and 
satisfying,  evidently  based  upon  seasoned  ex- 


ioo  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

perience.  The  argument  as  to  who  should 
pay,  the  gesture  conveying  the  generous  sen 
timent  "This  one's  on  me,"  the  spinning  of  a 
coin  on  the  bar,  the  raising  of  the  elbow,  the 
final  toss  that  dispatched  the  fluid — all  these 
were  done  to  the  life.  The  audience  followed 
suit  with  a  will.  A  whispering  rustle  ran 
through  the  dingy  hall  as  each  man  murmured 
his  favorite  catchwords.  "Give  it  a  name," 
"Set  'em  up  again,"  "Here's  luck,"  and  such 
archaic  phrases  were  faintly  audible.  Miss 
Chuff  kept  her  gaze  fastened  on  the  empty 
tumbler. 

Suddenly  her  rigid  pose  relaxed.  She 
drooped  forward  in  her  chair,  with  her  head 
sunk  and  hands  limp.  Tenderly  and  rever 
ently  Quimbleton  bent  over  her.  Then,  his 
face  shining  with  triumph,  he  spoke  to  the 
hushed  watchers. 

"She  is  in  the  trance,"  he  said.  "Gentle 
men,  her  happy  soul  is  in  touch  with  the  de 
parted  spirits.  What'll  you  have?  Don't  all 
speak  at  once." 

Fifty-nine,  in  hushed  voices,  petitioned  for 
a  Bronx.  Quimbleton  turned  to  the  uncon 
scious  girl. 

"Fifty-nine  devotees/'  he  said,  "ask  that  the 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  lion 

spirit  of  the  Bronx  cocktail  vouchsafe  his  pres 
ence  among  us." 

Miss  Chuff's  slender  figure  stiffened  again. 
Her  hand  went  out  to  the  glass  beside  her,  and 
raised  it  to  her  lips.  Some  of  the  more  eag 
erly  credulous  afterwards  asserted  that  they 
had  seen  a  cloudy  yellow  liquid  appear  in  the 
vessel,  but  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  wish 
was  father  to  the  vision.  At  any  rate,  the 
fifty-nine  suppliants  experienced  at  that  in 
stant  a  gush  of  sweet  coolness  down  their 
;throats,  and  the  unmistakable  subsequent  tin 
gle.  They  gazed  at  each  other  with  a  wild 
surmise. 

"How  about  another?"  said  one  in  a  thrill 
ing  whisper. 

"Take  your  turn,"  said  Quimbleton.  "Who's 
next?" 

One  hundred  and  fifty-three  nominated 
Scotch  whiskey.  The  order  was  filled  without 
a  slip.  Quimbleton's  face  beamed  above  his 
beard  like  a  full-blown  rose.  "Magnificent!" 
he  whispered  to  Bleak,  both  of  them  having 
partaken  in  the  second  round.  "If  this  keeps 
on  we'll  have  a  charge  of  the  tight  brigade." 

The  next  round  was  ninety-five  Jack  Rose 
cocktails,  but  the  audience  was  beginning  to 


102  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

get  out  of  hand.  Those  who  had  not  yet  been 
served  grew  restive.  They  saw  their  compan 
ions  with  brightened  eyes  and  beaming  faces, 
comparing  notes  as  to  this  delicious  revival  of 
old  sensations.  In  the  impatience  of  some  and 
the  jubilation  of  others,  the  psychic  concentra 
tion  flagged  a  little.  Then,  just  as  Quimble- 
ton  was  about  to  ask  for  the  fourth  round,  the 
unforgiveable  happened.  Some  one  at  the  back 
shouted,  "A  glass  of  buttermilk!" 

Miss  Chuff  shuddered,  quivered,  and  opened 
her  eyes  with  a  tragic  gasp.  She  slipped  from 
the  chair,  and  fell  exhausted  to  the  floor. 
Bleak  ran  to  pick  her  up.  Quimbleton 
screamed  out  an  oath. 

"The  spell  is  broken  I"  he  roared.  -"There's 
a  spy  in  the  room!" 

At  that  instant  a  battalion  of  armed  chuffs 
burst  into  the  hall.  They  carried  a  huge  hose, 
and  in  ten  seconds  a  six-inch  stream  of  cold 
water  was  being  poured  upon  the  bewildered 
psychic  tipplers.  Quimbleton  and  Bleak,  seiz 
ing  the  girl's  helpless  form,  escaped  by  a  door 
at  the  back  of  the  platform. 

"Heaven  help  us,"  cried  Bleak,  distraught. 
"What  shall  we  do?  This  means  the  firing 
squad  unless  we  can  escape/' 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  103 

Theodolinda  feebly  opened  her  eyes. 

"O  horrible,"  she  murmured.  "The  spirit 
of  buttermilk — I  saw  him- — he  threatened 
me •" 

"The  horse!"  cried  Quimbleton,  witH  fierce 
energy.  "The  Bishop's  horse — in  the  stable!" 

They  ran  wildly  to  the  rear  quarters  of  the 
Home,  where  they  found  the  Bishop's  famous 
charger  whinneying  in  his  stall.  All  three 
leaped  upon  his  back.  In  the  confusion,  amid 
the  screams  of  the  tortured  inmates  and  the 
cruel  cries  of  the  invading  chuffs,  they  made 
good  their  escape. 

Every  one  of  the  wretched  inmates  captured 
at  the  psychic  carouse  was  immediately  sen 
tenced  to  six  months'  hard  listening  on  the 
Chautauqua  circuit.  But  even  during  this 
brutal  punishment  their  memories  returned 
with  tenderest  reminiscence  to  the  experience 
of  that  afternoon.  As  one  of  them  said,  "it 
was  a  real  treat."  And  although  Quimbleton 
had  plainly  stated  the  relation  in  which  he  stood 
to  Theodolinda  Chuff,  she  had  no  less  than  two 
hundred  and  ten  proposals  of  marriage,  by 
mail,  from  those  who  had  attended  the  seance. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  DECANTERBURY  PILGRIMS 

f 

THROUGH  a    dreary  waste  of   devas 
tated  country  a  little  group  of  refu 
gees  plodded  in  silence.     All  about 
them  lay  fields  and  orchards  which  had  been 
torn  and  uprooted  as  though  by  some  unbe 
lievable   whirlwind.     At   a   watering  trough 
along  the  road  they  halted,  facing  the  sign : 


COMPULSORY  DRINKING  STATION 
Adults,  i  quart 
Children,  I  pint 

Thirst  forbidden  between  here  and 
the  next  station 


Under  the  eye  of  an  armed  chuff,  who 
watched  them  suspiciously,  the  wretched  wan 
derers  drank  the  water  in  silence,  but  without 
enthusiasm.  Then  they  shuffled  on  down  the 

road. 

104 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  105 

At  the  front  of  the  small  procession  a  slen 
der  girl,  in  a  much-stained  sports  suit,  rode  on 
a  tall  black  horse.  Beside  the  horse  trudged 
a  bulky  man  in  a  grotesque  garb  of  dirty  lav 
ender  quilting.  A  matted  whisk  of  coarse 
beard  drooped  from  his  chin,  but  his  blue  eyes 
burned  brightly  in  his  sunburnt  face.  Over 
his  shoulder  he  carried  a  six  foot  length  of 
brass  railing,  a  small  folding  table,  and  a 
shabby  knapsack. 

Behind  the  horse  limped  a  lean,  dyspeptic- 
colored  individual  in  a  Palm  Beach  suit  that 
would  have  been  a  social  death-warrant  on  the 
Chining  sands  of  its  name-place.  There  is  no 
form  of  sartorialism  that  takes  on  such  utter 
humility  as  a  Palm  Beach  suit  gone  wrong. 
This  particular  vestment  was  spotted  with  ink, 
with  mud,  with  fruit-juices,  with  every  kind 
of  stain;  it  was  punctured  with  perforations 
that  might  have  been  due  to  fallen  tobacco  tin 
der.  The  individual  within  this  travesty  of 
clothing  was  painfully  propelling  a  wheelbar 
row,  in  which  rode  (not  without  complaint) 
a  substantial  woman  and  a  baby.  An  older 
child  trailed  from  the  Palm  Beach  coat-tail. 

These  jovial  vagabonds,  as  the  reader  will 
have  suspected,  were  no  other  than  Theodo- 


106  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

linda  Chuff,  Virgil  Quimbleton,  and  the  fam 
ily  of  Bleaks. 

Affairs  had  gone  steadily  from  bad  to  worse. 
After  the  incident — or,  as  some  blasphemously 
called  it,  the  miracle — at  Cana,  Bishop  Chuff 
had  commenced  ruthless  warfare.  Enraged 
beyond  control  by  the  perfidy  of  his  daughter, 
he  had  sent  out  the  armies  of  the  Pan-Antis  to 
wreak  vengeance  on  every  human  enterprise 
that  could  be  suspected  of  complicity  in  the 
matter  of  fermentation.  Not  only  had  the 
countryside  been  laid  waste,  but  the  printing 
press  had  been  abolished  and  all  publishing 
trades  were  now  a  thing  of  the  past.  This,  of 
course,  had  thrown  Dunraven  Bleak  out  of  a 
job.  He  had  retrieved  his  wife  and  children 
from  the  seashore,  and  in  company  with  Quim 
bleton  and  Miss  Chuff,  and  the  noble  and  faith 
ful  horse  John  Barleycorn,  they  had  led  a  nom 
ad  existence  for  weeks,  flying  from  bands  of 
pursuing  chuffs,  and  bravely  preaching  their 
illicit  gospel  of  good  cheer  in  the  face  of  ter 
rible  dangers. 

The  girl,  who  was  indeed  the  Jeanne  d'Arc 
of  their  cause,  was  their  sole  means  of  sub 
sistence.  It  was  her  psychic  powers  that  made 
it  possible  for  them,  in  a  furtive  way,  to  give 


THEY  LED  A  NOMAD  EXISTENCE  FOR 
WEEKS, 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  109 

their  little  entertainments.  Their  method  was, 
pn  reaching  a  village  where  there  were  no  chuff 
troops,  to  distribute  certain  handbills  which 
Bleak  had  been  able  to  get  printed  by  stealth. 
These  read  thus: 

THE  SIX  QUIMBLETONS 

or  The  Decanterbury  Pilgrims 

In  Their  Artistic  Revival 
Of  Old  and  Entertaining  Customs, 

Tableaux  Vivants 

iVanished  Arts,  Folklore  Games  and 

Conjuring  Tricks 

Such  as  The  Drinking  of  Healths,  Toasts, 
Nosepainting,  The  Lifted  Elbow,  Let's  Match 
For  It,  Say  When,  Light  or  Dark?  and  This 

One's  On  Me. 

COMMUNION  WITH  DEPARTED  SPIRITS 

jpTOfevtfifl^^^^  ^iSHBtotet^Tt 

IPfrlease  Do  Not  Leave  Before  the^^^| 
Hat  Goes  Round 

Having  taken  their  station  in  some  not  too 
prominent  place,  Bleak  would  mount  the  wheel 
barrow  and  play  Coming  Through  the  Rye  on 
a  jew's-harp.  This,  his  sole  musical  accom 
plishment,  was  exceedingly  distasteful  to  him:' 
all  his  training  had  been  in  the  anonymity  of 


I  io  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

a  newspaper  office,  and  he  felt  his  public  hu 
miliation  bitterly. 

When  a  crowd  had  gathered,  Quimbleton 
would  ascend  the  barrow  and  make  a  brief 
speech  (of  a  highly  inflammatory  and  trea 
sonable  nature)  after  which  he  would  set  up 
the  small  table  and  the  brass  rail,  produce  a 
white  apron  and  a  tumbler  from  his  knapsack, 
and  introduce  Theodolinda  for  an  alcoholic 
trance.  It  was  found  that  the  public  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  these  seances  with  great  gusto, 
and  often  the  collection  taken  up  was  gratify- 
ingly  large.  However,  the  life  was  hazardous 
In  the  extreme,  and  they  were  in  perpetual  dan 
ger  of  meeting  secret  service  agents.  It  was 
only  by  repeated  private  trances  of  their  own 
that  they  were  able  to  keep  up  their  morale. 

Reaching  a  bend  in  the  way,  where  a  grove 
of  trees  cast  a  grateful  shade,  the  Decanter- 
bury  Pilgrims  halted  to  rest.  Quimbleton 
helped  Theodolinda  down  from  her  horse,  and 
they  all  sat  sadly  by  the  roadside. 

"Theo,"  said  Quimbleton,  as  he  wiped  his 
brow,  "do  you  think,  dear,  that  if  I  set  up  the 
table  you  could  give  us  a  little  trance?  Upon 
my  soul,  I  am  nearly  done  in." 

"Darling    Virgil/'    said    Theodolinda,    "I 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

really  can't  do  it.  You  know  I've  given  you 
.four  trances  already  this  morning,  and  you 
have  communed  with  the  soul  of  Wurzburger 
at  least  a  dozen  times.  Then,  as  you  know, 
I  have  put  Mr.  Bleak  in  touch  with  a  julep  six 
or  seven  times.  All  that  takes  it  out  of  me 
dreadfully.  I  really  must  consider  my  art  a 
bit:  I  don't  want  to  be  a  mere  psychic  bar 
tender,  a  clairvoyant  distiller." 

-'You  are  quite  right,  dear  girl,"  said  Quim- 
bleton  remorsefully.  "But  I  couldn't  help 
thinking  how  agreeable  a  psychical  seidel  of 
dark  beer  would  be  just  now.  You  are  our 
little  Jeanne  Dark,  you  know,"  he  added,  with 
an  atrocious  attempt  at  pleasantry. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  Bleak  (who  pre 
ferred  julep  to  beer),  "but  if  we  don't  look  out 
Miss  Chuff  will  go  into  a  permanent  trance. 
I've  noticed  it  has  been  harder  and  harder  to 
bring  her  back  from  these  states  of  suspended 
sobriety.  You  know,  if  we  crowd  these  phan 
tasms  of  the  grape  upon  her  too  fast,  she  might 
pass  over  altogether,  and  stay  behind  the  bar 
for  good.  We  are  deeply  indebted  to  Miss 
Chuff  for  her  adorable  willingness  to  act  as  a 
kind  of  bunghole  into  the  spirit  world,  but  we 


H2  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

don't  want  her  to  slip  through  the  hole  and 
evaporate." 

"Safety  thirst!"  cried  Quimbleton,  raising 
his  loved  one  to  his  lips. 

"We  can't  go  on  like  this  indefinitely,"  con 
tinued  Bleak.  "I  don't  mind  being  a  mounte 
bank,  but  mountebanks  don't  pay  much  inter 
est.  I'd  rather  be  a  safe  deposit  somewhere 
out  of  Chuff's  reach.  There's  too  much  drama 
in  this  way  of  living." 

"I  can  stand  the  drama  as  long  as  I  get  the 
drams/'  said  the  unrepentant  Quimbleton. 

"Well,  /  won't  stand  it!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
[Bleak,  shrilly.  "Look  what  your  insane 
schemes  have  brought  us  to!  You  and  my 
husband  seem  to  find  comfort  in  your  psychical 
jtoping,  but  I  don't  notice  any  psychical  mil 
linery  being  draped  about  for  Miss  Chuff  or 
myself.  And  look  at  the  children!  They're 
simply  in  rags.  If  you  really  loved  Miss 
Chuff  I  should  think  you'd  be  ashamed  to  use 
her  as  a  spiritual  demijohn !  You've  alienated 
her  from  her  father,  and  reduced  my  husband 
from  managing  editor  of  a  leading  paper  to 
managing  jew's-harpist  of  a  gang  of  psychic 
bootleggers."  She  burst  into  angry  tears. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  113 

Quimbleton  groaned,  and  turned  a  ghastly 
face  upon  Bleak. 

"It's  quite  true,"  he  said. 

In  the  excitement  Miss  Chuff  had  turned 
very  pale. 

"Virgil/'  she  said  faintly,  "I  believe  I  feel  a 
trance  coming  on." 

"Great  grief!"  cried  the  harassed  leader. 
"Not  now,  my  darling!  I  think  I  see  some 
troops  in  the  distance.  Quick,  try  to  concen 
trate  your  mind  on  lemonade,  on  buttermilk, 
on  beef  tea!" 

Happily  this  crisis  passed.  Theodolinda 
had  presence  of  mind  enough  to  pull  out  a  lit 
tle  photograph  of  her  father  from  some  secret 
hiding  place,  and  by  putting  her  mind  on  it 
shook  off  the  dominion  of  the  other  world. 

Quimbleton  spoke  with  anguished  remorse. 

"Mrs.  Bleak  is  right.  I've  been  trying  to 
hide  it  from  myself,  but  I  can  do  so  no  longer. 
This  monkey  business — what  we  might  call  this 
gorilla  warfare — must  stop.  We  will  only 
land  in  front  of  a  firing  squad.  I  have  only 
one  idea,  which  I  have  been  saving  in  case  all 
else  failed." 

The  Bleaks  were  too  discouraged  to  com 
ment,  but  Theodolinda  smiled  bravely. 


114  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

"Virgil  dear,"  she  said,  "your  ideas  are  al- 
jways  so  original.  What  is  it?" 

Quimbleton  stood  up,  unconsciously  putting 
one  foot  on  the  portable  brass  rail  which  rested 
on  its  six-inch  legs  by  the  roadside.  His  tired 
eyes  shone  anew  with  characteristic  enthusi 
asm.  It  was  plain  that  he  imagined  himself 
before  a  large  and  sympathetic  audience. 

"My  friends,"  he  said,  "the  secret  of  elo 
quence  is  to  know  your  facts — or,  as  the  all- 
powerful  Chuff  would  amend  it,  to  know  your 
tracts.  One  fact,  I  think  I  may  say,  is  plain. 
The  jig  is  up,  or  (more  literally),  the  jag  is 
up.  I  can  see  now  that  alcohol  will  never  be 
more  than  a  memory.  Principalities  and 
powers  are  in  league  against  us.  If  the  malt 
has  lost  its  favor,  wherewith  shall  it  be 
malted?" 

He  paused  a  moment,  as  though  expecting 
a  little  applause,  and  Theodolinda  murmured 
an  encouraging  "Here,  here." 

With  rekindled  eye  he  resumed. 

"Alcohol,  I  say,  will  never  be  more  than  a 
memory.  Yet  even  a  memory  must  be  kept 
alive.  The  great  tradition  must  not  die.  For 
the  very  sake  of  antiquarian  accuracy,  for  the 
instruction  of  posterity,  some  exact  record  must 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  115 

jbe  kept  of  the  influence  of  alcohol  upon  the  hu 
man  soul.  How  can  this  be  preserved?  Not 
in  books,  not  in  the  dead  mummies  of  a  mu 
seum.  No,  not  in  dead  mummies,  indeed,  but 
in  living  rummies.  That  brings  me  to  my 
great  idea,  which  I  have  long  cherished. 

"I  propose,  my  dear  friends,  that  in  some 
appropriate  shrine,  surrounded  by  all  the  au 
thentic  trappings  and  utensils,  some  chosen  in 
dividual  be  maintained  at  the  public  charge,  to 
exhibit  for  the  contemplation  of  a  drouthing 
world  the  immortal  flame  of  intoxication.  He 
will  be  known,  without  soft  concealments,  as 
the  Perpetual  Souse.  In  his  little  bar,  served 
by  austere  attendants,  he  will  be  kept  in  a  state 
of  gentle  exhilaration.  Nothing  gross,  noth 
ing  unseemly,  I  insist !  In  that  state  of  sweetly 
glowing  mind  and  heart,  in  that  ineffable  blos 
soming  of  all  the  nobler  qualities  of  human 
dignity,  this  priest  of  alcohol  will  represent 
and  perpetuate  the  virtues  of  the  grape. 
Booze,  in  the  general  sense,  will  have  gone 
West,  but  ah  how  fair  and  ruddy  a  sunset  will 
it  have  in  the  person  of  this  its  vicar !  There 
fie  will  live,  visited,  studied,  revered,  a  living 
memorial.  There  he  will  live,  perpetually  in 


n6  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

a  mellow  fume  of  bliss,  trailing  clouds  of  glory, 
as  if — as  some  poet  says, 

As  if  his  whole  vocation 
Were  endless  intoxication. 

And  now,  my  friends- — not  to  weary  you  with 
the  minor  details  of  this  far-reaching  proposal 
— let  me  come  to  the  point.  For  so  gravely 
responsible  a  post,  for  an  office  so  representa 
tive  of  the  ideals  and  ambitions  of  millions, 
the  choice  cannot  be  cast  haphazard.  The 
choice  must  fall  upon  one  qualified,  confirmed, 
consecrated  to  this  end.  This  deeply  signifi 
cant  office  must  be  conferred  by  the  people 
themselves.  It  must  be  conferred  by  popular 
election.  Candidates  must  be  nominated,  must 
stump  the  country  explaining  their  qualifica 
tions.  And  let  me  say  that,  upon  looking  over 
the  whole  field,  I  see  one  man,  who  by  the  jury 
of  his  peers — or  shall  I  say  by  the  jury  of  his 
beers? — is  supremely  fitted  for  this  post.  It 
is  my  intention  to  nominate  Mr.  Dunraven 
Bleak  for  the  office  of  Perpetual  Souse." 

There  was  a  moment  of  complete  silence 
while  his  hearers  considered  the  vast  scope 
of  this  remarkable  suggestion.  It  is  only  fair 
to  say  that  Mr.  Bleak's  face  had  at  first  lighted 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  117 

up,  but  then  he  glanced  at  his  wife  and  his 
countenance  grew  pinched.  He  spoke  hastily : 

"A  very  generous  thought,  my  dear  fellow ; 
but  I  feel  that  you  would  be  far  more  compe-J 
tent  for  this  form  of  public  service  than  I 
could  hope  to  be." 

"Your  modesty  does  you  credit,"  replied 
Quimbleton,  "but  you  forget  that  owing  to  my 
relation  with  Miss  Chuff  I  shall  happily  be  pre 
cluded  from  the  necessity  of  entering  public 
life  for  this  purpose." 

"And  what,  pray,"  said  Mrs.  Bleak  with  dis 
tinct  asperity,  "is  to  become  of  me  and  the 
children  if  Mr.  Bleak  is  elected  to  this  prepos 
terous  office?" 

"I  was  coming  to  that,"  said  Quimbleton 
eagerly.  "It  would  be  arranged,  of  course, 
that  the  Perpetual  Souse  would  be  granted  a 
liberal  salary  for  his  family  expenses ;  you  and 
your  delightful  children  would  be  maintained 
at  the  public  expense  in  a  suitable  bungalow 
nearby,  with  a  private  family  entrance  into  the 
official  cellars.  Your  rank,  of  course,  would  be 
that  of  Perpetual  Spouse." 

"My  good  Quimbleton,"  said  Bleak,  some 
what  bitterly,  "this  is  a  fascinating  vision  in 
deed,  but  how  can  it  be  accomplished?  How 


n8  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

would  you  ever  get  such  a  scheme  accepted  by 
Bishop  Chuff,  who  will  never  forgive  you  for 
kidnaping  his  daughter?  You  are  building 
bar-rooms  in  Spain,  my  dear  chap;  you  are 
blowing  mere  soap-bubbles/' 

"And  why  not?"  cried  his  friend.  "Bishop 
Chuff  has  called  me  a  soap-box  orator.  At  any 
rate,  a  man  who  stands  upon  a  soap-box  is 
nearer  heaven  by  several  inches  than  the  man 
who  stands  upon  the  ground." 

Theodolinda's  face  sparkled  with  the  impact 
of  an  idea. 

"Come/'  she  said,  "it's  not  impossible  after 
all.  I  have  a  thought.  We'll  offer  Father  an 
armistice  and  talk  things  over  with  him.  He 
doesn't  know  what  straits  we're  in,  and  maybe 
we  can  bring  him»  to  terms.  He  was  very 
badly  scared  by  those  gooseberry  bombs,  and 
maybe  we  can  bluff  him  into  a  concession." 

"If  we  had  had  any  luck,"  said  Quimbleton, 
"we  would  have  blown  him  into  a  concussion. 
But  anyway,  that's  a  bonny  scheme.  We'll 
grant  him  a  truce.  Bleak,  you're  a  newspaper 
man,  just  get  hold  of  the  United  Press  and  let 
them  know  the  armistice  is  signed."  , 

Bleak  smiled  wanly  at  the  thrust. 

"All  right,"  he  said.     "Let's  go.    But  what's 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  119 

your  idea,  Miss  Chuff?  We  must  have  some 
thing  to  base  negotiations  on." 

"Wait  and  see,"  she  cried  gayly.  "Well 
talk  it  over  as  we  go  along." 

Mrs.  Bleak  aroused  her  children,  who  had 
fallen  asleep,  and  climbed  back  into  the  wheel 
barrow. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  approve  of  that  scheme 
of  making  Dunraven  the  Perpetual  Souse,"  she 
remarked.  "I  can  imagine  what  my  poor 
mother  would  say  about  it  if  she  were  living. 
She  came  of  fine  old  Kentucky  stock,  and  it 
would  humiliate  her  deeply  to  know  to  what  a 
level  we  had  been  reduced." 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Bleak,"  said  Quimbleton,  as 
he  hoisted  his  betrothed  into  the  saddle  and  the 
pilgrims  began  to  move,  "I  know  of  a  great 
deal  of  good  old  Kentucky  stock  that  has  had  a 
far  worse  fate  than  that  in  these  tragic  years." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

iWITH  BENEFIT  OF  CLERGY 

THROUGH  the  sullen  streets  of  the 
terrorized  city  Miss  Chuff,  Quimble- 
ton  and  Bleak  proceeded  toward  the 
great  building  where  the  Pan-Antis  had  their 
headquarters.  They  had  left  Mrs.  Bleak,  the 
children  and  the  horse  at  a  quiet  soda-fountain 
in  the  suburbs.  After  repeated  application 
over  the  wireless  telephone,  the  terrible  Bishop 
— the  Prohibishop,  as  Quimbleton  called  him — 
had  agreed  to  grant  them  an  audience,  and  had 
accorded  them  safe-conduct  through  the  chuff 
troops.  Even  so,  their  progress  was  difficult. 
Every  few  hundred  yards  they  were  halted  and 
subjected  to  curt  inquiry.  Men  and  women 
who  had  heard  of  their  gallant  struggle  against 
fearful  odds  pressed  forward  in  an  attempt  to 
seize  their  hands,  to  embrace  and  applaud  them, 
but  these  evidences  of  enthusiasm  were  sternly 
repressed  by  the  chuffs. 


I2O 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  121 

Bleak  was  frankly  nervous  as  they  ap 
proached  the  Chuff  Building. 

"What  line  of  talk  are  we  going  to  adopt?" 
he  asked. 

"Like  any  self-respecting  line,"  replied 
Quimbleton,  "Ours  will  be  the  shortest  dis 
tance  between  two  points.  The  first  point  is 
that  we  want  to  obtain  something  from  Chuff. 
The  second  is  that  we  have  some  information 
to  give  him  which  will  be  of  immense  value  to 
him.  This  we  shall  hold  over  him  as  a  club, 
to  force  him  to  concede  what  we  want." 

"And  what  is  this  club?"  asked  Bleak,  some 
what  suspicious  of  his  friend's  sanguine  dispo 
sition. 

"The  admirable  plan/*  said  Quimbleton,  "is 
Theodolinda's  idea,  She  knows  her  father 
better  than  we  do.  She  says  that  his  passion 
is  for  prohibiting  things.  He  thinks  he  has 
now  prohibited  everything  possible.  We  are 
in  a  position  to  tell  him  something  that  still 
remains  unprohibited.  His  eagerness  to  know 
what  that  may  be  will  make  him  yield  to  our 
request." 

Bleak  pondered  gloomily.  As  far  as  he  could 
recall,  the  Prohibition  Government  had  over 
looked  nothing.  The  quaint  part  of  it  was  that 


122  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

some  of  its  prohibitions,  carried  to  their  logical 
extreme,  had  curiously  overleaped  their  mark. 
For  instance,  finding  it  impossible  to  enforce 
the  laws  against  playing  games  on  Sundays, 
the  Government  had  concluded  that  the  only 
way  to  make  the  Sabbath  utterly  immaculate 
was  to  abolish  it  altogether,  which  was  done. 
Other  laws,  probably  based  upon  genuine  zeal 
for  human  welfare,  had  resulted  in  odd  eva 
sions  or  legal  fictions.  For  instance,  people 
were  forbidden  to  miss  trains.  The  penalty 
for  missing  a  train  was  ten  days'  hard  labor 
splitting  infinitives  in  the  government  tract- 
factory.  Rather  than  impose  this  harsh  pun 
ishment  on  any  one,  good-hearted  engineers 
would  permit  their  trains  to  loiter  about  the 
stations  until  they  felt  certain  no  other  passen 
gers  would  turn  up.  Consequently  no  trains 
were  ever  on  time,  and  the  Government  was 
forced  to  do  away  with  time  entirely.  Another 
thing  that  was  abolished  was  hot  weather.  It 
had  been  found  too  tedious  to  tilt  the  axis  of 
the  earth,  therefore  all  the  thermometers  were 
re-scaled.  When  the  temperature  was  really 
96°,  the  mercury  registered  only  70°,  and 
every  one  was  saying  how  jolly  cool  it  was  for 
the  time  of  year.  This,  of  course,  was  careless, 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  123 

for  there  was  no  such  thing  as  time  or  year,  but 
still  people  kept  on  saying  it. 

Bleak  was  thinking  over  these  matters  when 
he  suddenly  recalled  that  it  was  forbidden  to 
remember  things  as  they  had  been  under  the 
old  regime.  He  pulled  himself  up  with  a  start. 
In  order  to  make  his  mind  a  blank  he  tried  to 
imagine  himself  about  to  write  a  leading  edi 
torial  for  the  Balloon.  This  was  so  successful 
that  he  did  not  come  to  earth  again  until  they 
stood  in  the  ante-room — or  as  Quimbleton 
called  it,  the  anti-room — of  the  Bishop. 

"Who  is  to  be  spokesman  ?"  he  said  appre 
hensively,  gazing  with  distaste  at  the  angular 
females  who  were  pecking  at  typewriters.  "It 
would  be  unseemly  for  me  to  present  my  own 
claims  in  this  project.  Quimbleton,  you  are 
the  one — you  have  the  gift  of  the  tongue." 

"I  would  rather  have  the  gift  of  the  bung," 
[whispered  Quimbleton  resolutely  as  they  were 
ushered  into  the  inner  sanctum. 

The  dreaded  Bishop  sat  at  an  immense  ebony 
Hat-topped  desk.  The  room  was  furnished  like 
his  mind,  that  is  to  say,  sparsely,  and  without 
any  southern  exposure.  A  peculiarly  terrify 
ing  feature  of  the  scene  was  that  the  top  of  the 
desk  was  completely  bare,  not  a  single  paper  lay 


124  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

on  it.  Remembering  his  own  desk  in  the  news 
paper  office,  Bleak  felt  that  this  was  unnatural 
and  monstrous.  He  noticed  a  breathoscope  on 
the  mantelpiece,  with  its  sensitive  needle  trem 
bling  on  the  scaled  dial  which  read  thus  :• — • 


As  he  watched  the  indicator  oscillate  rapidly 
on  the  dial,  and  finally  subside  uncertainly  at 
zero,  he  thanked  heaven  that  they  had  indulged 
in  no  psychic  grogs  that  day. 

The  Bishop's  black  beard  foamed  downward 
upon  the  desk  like  a  gloomy  cataract.  Quim- 
bleton  for  a  moment  was  almost  abashed,  and 
regretted  that  he  had  not  thought  to  whitewash 
his  own  dingy  thicket. 

Bishop  Chuff's  piercing  and  cruel  gaze 
Stabbed  all  three.  He  ignored  Theodolinda 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  125 

with  contempt.  His  disdain  was  so  complete 
that  (as  the  unhappy  girl  said  afterward)  he 
seemed  more  like  a  younger  brother  than  a 
father.  There  were  no  chairs:  they  were 
forced  to  stand.  In  a  small  mirror  fastened  to 
the  edge  of  his  desk  the  sneering  potentate 
could  note  the  dial-reading  of  the  instrument 
without  turning.  He  watched  the  reflected 
needle  flicker  and  come  to  rest. 

"So,  Mr.  Quimbleton,"  he  said,  in  a  harsh 
and  untuned  voice,  "You  come  comparatively 
sober.  Strange  that  you  should  choose  to  be 
unintoxicated  when  you  face  the  greatest  or 
deal  of  your  life." 

The  savage  irony  of  this  angered  Quimble 
ton. 

"One  touch  of  liquor  makes  the  whole  world 
kin,"  he  said.  "I  assure  you  I  have  no  desire 
to  claim  kinship  with  your  bitter  and  intoler 
ant  soul." 

"Ah  ?"  said  the  Bishop,  with  mock  politeness. 
"You  relieve  me  greatly.  I  had  thought  you 
desired  to  claim  me  as  father-in-law." 

"Oh,  Parent!"  cried  Theodolinda;  "How 
can  you  be  so  cruel?  Sarcasm  is  such  a  low 
form  of  humor." 

"I  am  not  trying  to  be  humorous,"  said  the 


126  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

Bishop  grimly.  "You,  who  were  once  the  apple 
of  my  eye,  are  now  only  an  apple  of  discord. 
You,  whom  I  considered  such  a  promising 
child,  are  now  a  breach  of  promise.  You  have 
Ducked  my  blood.  You  are  a  Vampire." 

"The  Vampire  on  whom  the  sun  never  sets," 
whispered  Quimbleton  to  the  terrified  girl,  en 
couraging  her  as  she  shrank  against  him. 

"This  is  no  time  for  jest,"  said  the  Bishop 
angrily.  "You  said  you  had  a  matter  of  vital 
import  to  lay  before  me.  Make  haste.  And 
remember  that  you  are  here  only  on  sufferance. 
I  shall  be  pitiless.  I  shall  scourge  the  evil  prin 
ciple  you  represent  from  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"We  do  not  fear  your  threats,"  said  Quim 
bleton  stoutly.  "We  are  not  alarmed  by  your 
frown." 

He  was,  greatly,  but  he  was  sparring  for, 
time  to  put  his  thoughts  in  order.  He  started 
to  say  "Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a 
frown,"  which  was  an  aphorism  of  his  own  he 
thought  highly  of,  but  Theodolinda  checked 
him.  She  knew  that  her  father  detested  puns. 
It  was  perhaps  his  only  virtue. 

"Bishop  Chuff,"  said  Quimbleton,  "perhaps 
you  are  not  aware  of  the  strength  and  tenacity 
of  the  sentiment  we  represent.  I  assure  you 


r'THIS  IS  NO  TIME  FOR  JEST,"  SAID 
THE  BISHOP  ANGRILY.  ^'REMEMBER; 
I  SHALL  BE  PITILESS.*; 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  129 

that  if  you  underestimate  the  power  of  the  mil 
lions  of  thirsty  mouths  that  speak  through  us, 
you  will  rue  the  consequences.  Jrouble  is 
brewing " 

"Neither  trouble,  nor  anything  else,  is  brew 
ing  nowadays/'  said  the  terrible  Bishop. 

Theodolinda  saw  that  Quimbleton  was  losing 
ground  by  his  incorrigible  habit  of  talking  be 
fore  he  said  anything.  She  broke  in  impetu 
ously,  and  explained  the  plan  for  the  Perpetual 
Souse.  Her  father  listened  to  the  end  with  his 
cold,  forbidding  gaze,  while  the  sensitive 
needle  of  the  recording  instrument  on  the  man 
tel  danced  and  wagged  in  agitation. 

"So  this  is  your  scheme,  is  it?"  he  said. 
"Abandoned  offspring,  you  deserve  the  gal 
lows." 

"Wait  a  moment/'  said  Quimbleton.  "Now 
comes  the  other  side  of  the  argument.  If  you 
grant  us  this  concession  we  in  turn  will  put 
you  in  possession  of  a  magnificent  idea.  You 
think  that  you  have  prohibited  everything. 
Your  vetoes  cumber  the  earth.  But  there  is 
still  one  thing  you  have  forgotten  to  prohibit." 

"What  is  it?"  said  the  Bishop  coldly.  His 
hard  face  was  unmoved,  but  his  eyes  bright 
ened  a  trifle. 


130  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

"There  is  one  thing  you  have  forgotten  to 
prohibit/'  said  Quimbleton  solemnly.  "I  can 
hardly  conceive  how  it  escaped  you.  The  one 
thing  that  harasses  human  beings  over  the 
whole  civilized  world.  The  one  thing  which,  if 
you  were  to  abolish  it,  would  make  your  name, 
foul  as  that  now  is,  blessed  in  the  ears  of  men. 
Oh,  the  joy  of  still  having  something  to  pro 
hibit  !  The  unmixed  bliss  and  high  privilege  of 
the  vetoing  function!  I  envy  you,  from  my 
heart,  in  still  having  something  to  forbid." 

The  Bishop  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair. 
"What  is  it?"  he  said. 

Quimbleton  watched  him  with  a  steady  and 
slightly  annoying  smile. 

"I  like  to  dwell  in  imagination  upon  your  sur 
prise  when  you  realize  what  you  have  over 
looked.  It  seems  so  simple !  To  abolish,  pro 
hibit,  banish,  and  remove,  at  one  swoop,  the 
chief  preoccupation  of  mankind!  The  simple 
and  high-minded  felicity  of  still  having  some 
thing  prohibitable  subject  to  your  omnipotent 
legislation !  But  there,  I  dare  say  I  am  wrong. 
Probably  you  are  weary  of  prohibiting  things." 

Quimbleton  made  a  motion  to  his  compan 
ions  as  though  to  leave  the  room.  The  Bishop 
leaped  to  his  feet,  with  curiously  mingled  anger 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  131 

and  eagerness  on  his  face.  "Stop!"  he  cried. 
"You  can't  mean  laughter?  I  abolished  that 
some  weeks  ago.  I  don't  believe  there  is  any 
thing  left " 

"How  quaint  it  is,"  said  Quimbleton  (as 
though  talking  to  himself),  "that  it  is  always 
the  plainly  obvious  that  eludes !  But,  of  course, 
the  reason  you  have  not  abolished  this  matter 
before  is  that  to  do  so  would  wholly  alter  and 
undermine  the  habits  of  the  race.  Nothing 
would  be  the  same  as  before.  I  daresay  a  good 
deal  of  misery  would  be  caused  in  the  long  run, 
who  knows  ?  Ah  well,  it  seems  a  pity  you  for 
got  it " 

"Hell's  bells!"  roared  the  Bishop,  bringing 
his  fist  down  on  the  desk  with  fury — "What 
is  it?  Let  me  get  at  it!" 

"I  should  be  sorry  to  marry  into  a  profane 
family,"  was  Quimbleton's  reply,  moving  to 
ward  the  door. 

The  Bishop  chewed  the  end  of  his  beard  with 
a  crunching  sound.  This  unpleasant  gesture 
caused  a  tingle  to  pass  along  Bleak's  sensitive 
spine,  already  strained  to  painful  nervous  ten 
sion.  The  office  of  the  Perpetual  Souse  hung 
in  the  balance. 

"Look  here,"  said  Bishop  Chuff,  "If  I  let 


132  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

you  have  your  way  about  the — the  Permanent 
Exhibit,  will  you  tell  me  what  it  is  I  have  for 
gotten  to  prohibit?'' 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Quimbleton.  'Will 
you  put  it  down  in  black  and  white,  please?" 

He  secured  the  Bishop's  signature  to  a  docu 
ment  giving  instructions  for  the  necessary 
legislation  to  be  passed.  Folding  the  precious 
paper  in  his  pocket,  Quimbleton  faced  the 
black-browed  Bishop.  He  held  Theodolinda  by 
the  hand. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said,  "that  I  should  have 
forgotten  to  bring  a  ring  with  me.  If  I  had 
done  so,  you  might  have  married  us  here  and 
now.  At  least  you  will  not  refuse  us  your 
blessing?" 

"Blessings  have  been  abolished,"  said  Chuff 
in  a  voice  of  exasperation.  "Now  inform  me 
what  it  is  that  I  have  forgotten  to  condemn." 

"Work!"  cried  Quimbleton,  and  the  three 
ran  hastily  from  the  room. 


ll  '  CHAPTER  IX 

THE  ELECTION 

IN  the  days  following  Quimbleton's  coup 
Chuff  was  in  seclusion.    It  was  rumored 
that  he  was  ill;  it  was  rumored  that  the 
sounds  of  breaking  furniture  had  been  heard 
by  the  neighbors  on  Caraway  Street.    But  at 
any  rate  the  Bishop  lived  up  to  his  word. 
Orders  over  his  signature  went  to  Congress, 
and  vast  sums  of  money  were  appropriated 
immediately  for 

The  establishment  and  maintenance  of  a  national 
park  with  suitable  buildings  and  appurtenances  where 
in  might  be  maintained  an  elected  individual  in  a  state 
of  freedom,  with  access  to  alcoholic  beverages,  in 
order  that  successive  generations  might  view  for  them 
selves  the  devastating  effects  of  alcohol  upon  the  hu 
man  system. 

No  political  campaign  was  ever  contested 
with  more  zeal  and  zest  than  that  which  led 
up  to  the  election  of  the  Perpetual  Souse.  Life 

had  grown  rather  dreary  under  the  innumer- 

133 


134  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

able  prohibitions  of  the  Chuff  regime,  and  the 
citizens  welcomed  the  excitement  of  the  cam 
paign  as  a  notable  diversion.  Quimbleton  ap 
pointed  himself  chairman  of  the  committee  to 
nominate  Bleak,  and  the  editor  (acting  under 
his  friend's  instructions)  had  hardly  begun  to 
deny  vigorously  that  he  had  any  intention  of 
being  a  candidate  before  he  found  himself 
plunged  into  a  bewildering  vortex  of  meetings, 
speeches,  and  confessions  of  faith.  Marching 
clubs,  properly  outfitted  with  two-quart  silk 
tiles  and  frock  coats,  were  spatting  their  way 
plumply  down  the  Boulevard.  Torchlight  pro 
cessions  tinted  the  night;  ward  picnics  strewed 
the  shells  of  hard-boiled  eggs  on  the  lawns  of 
suburban  amusement  parks,  while  Bleak,  very 
ill  at  ease,  was  kissing  adhesive  babies  and 
autographing  tissue  napkins  and  smiling  hor 
ribly  as  he  whirled  about  with  the  grand 
mothers  in  the  agony  of  the  carrousel.  More 
/than  once,  reeling  with  the  endless  circuit  of  a 
painted  merry-go-round  charger,  the  perplexed 
candidate  became  so  confused  that  he  kissed 
the  paper  napkin  and  autographed  the  baby. 

He  found  Quimbleton  a  stern  ringleader. 
Virgil  was  not  satisfied  with  the  old-fashioned 
method  of  stumping  the  country  from  the  taff- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  135 

rail  of  a  Pullman  car,  and  insisted  on  strapping 
Bleak  into  the  cockpit  of  a  biplane  and  flying 
him  from  city  to  city.  They  would  land  in 
some  central  square,  and  the  candidate,  deaf 
ened  and  half-frozen,  would  stammer  a  few 
halting  remarks.  He  felt  it  rather  keenly  that 
Quimbleton  looked  down  on  his  lack  of  orator 
ical  gift,  and  it  was  a  frequent  humiliation  that 
when  words  did  not  prosper  on  his  tongue  his 
impatient  pilot  would  turn  on  the  motors  and 
zoom  off  into  space  in  the  very  middle  of  a 
sentence. 

Nevertheless,  the  campaign  went  famously. 
Bleak  had  one  considerable  advantage  in  being 
comparatively  unknown.  He  had  never  per 
mitted  himself  the  luxury  of  making  enemies : 
except  for  a  few  ex-reporters  who  had  once 
worked  on  the  Balloon  he  had  not  a  foe  in  the 
world.  Quimbleton  had  been  eager  to  import 
a  covey  of  gunmen  from  other  cities,  but  when 
these  arrived  there  was  really  nothing  for  them 
to  do.  They  were  glad  to  accept  jobs  from 
Bishop  Chuff,  and  were  well  paid  for  waylay 
ing  and  sniping  the  few  grapes  and  apples  that 
had  escaped  previous  pogroms. 

There  was  only  one  plank  in  Bleak's  modest 
platform,  but  he  walked  it  so  happily  that  it 


136  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

began  to  look  like  a  gangplank  leading  onto  the 
Ship  of  State.  He  expressed  his  doctrine  very 
agreeably  in  his  speech  accepting  the  party 
nomination;  though  credit  should  be  given  to 
Theodolinda,  who  had  assisted  him  by  a  little 
private  seance  before  he  addressed  the  con 
vention. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen/'  he  said  (looking  as 
he  spoke  at  one  of  the  handbills  announcing  his 
candidacy  for  the  dignity  of  mouthpiece  of  the 
nation) — "I  issue  dodgers,  but  I  never  dodge 
the  issue.  I  can  Take  It  or  Let  It  Alone,  but 
frankly,  I  prefer  to  Take  It.  I  hope  I  speak 
modestly :  yet  candor  insists  that  both  by  past 
training  and  present  inclination  I  feel  myself 
fitted  to  deal  with  the  problems  of  this  exalted 
office.  If  elected  to  this  high  place  of  trust  I 
shall  regard  myself  solely  as  the  servant  of 
the  public,  solely  as  the  representative  of  your 
sovereign  will.  As  I  raise  the  glass  or  peel  the 
lemon,  I  shall  not  act  in  any  individual  capacity. 
My  own  good  cheer  (I  beg  you  to  believe)  will 
be  my  last  thought.  I  shall  remember,  in  every 
gesture  and  every  gulp,  that  my  thirst  is  in 
reality  the  Thirst  of  a  Nation,  delegated  to  me 
by  ballot ;  that  my  laughter  and  song  (if  things 
should  go  so  far)  are  truly  the  mirth  and  mu- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY   137 

sic  of  a  proud  people  expressing  themselves 
through  me.  I  shall  be  at  all  times  accessible  to 
my  fellow-men,  solicitous  to  hear  their  counsel 
and  command.  Believing  (as  I  do)  in  modera 
tion,  yet  I  should  not  dream  of  permitting  pri 
vate  sentiment  to  interfere  with  public  interest 
when  more  violent  measures  should  seem  de 
sirable. 

"I  like  to  think,  my  fellow-citizens,  that  you 
have  conferred  this  nomination  upon  me  not 
wholly  at  random.  I  like  to  think  that  I  am 
only  expressing  your  thought  when  I  say  that 
many  drinkers  have  been  the  worst  enemies 
of  the  cause  we  all  hold  dear.  The  alcohol- 
shevik  and  the  I.  W.  W. — the  I  Wallow  in 
Wine  faction — have  done  much  to  discredit  the 
old  bland  Jeffersonian  toper  who  carried  tip 
pling  to  the  level  of  a  fine  art.  I  have  no  pa 
tience  with  the  doctrine  of  complete  immersion. 
Ever  since  I  was  first  admitted  to  the  bar  I 
have  deplored  the  conduct  of  those  violent  and 
vulgar  revelers  who  have  brought  discredit 
upon  the  loveliest,  most  delicate  art  known  to 
man.  Now,  at  last,  by  supreme  wisdom, 
drinking  is  to  be  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  a 
career.  I  like  to  think  that  I  express  your  sen 
timent  when  I  say  that  drinking  is  too  precious, 


138  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

too  subtle,  too  fragile  a  function  to  be  entrusted 
to  the  common  crowd.  Therefore  I  heartily 
applaud  your  admirable  intention  of  entrusting 
it  entirely  to  me,  and  look  forward  with  pro 
found  satisfaction  to  the  privilege  of  enshrin 
ing  and  perpetuating  in  my  own  person  the 
genial  traditions  that  have  clustered  round  the 
institution  of  Liquor.  If  elected,  I  shall  en 
deavor  to  carry  on  the  fine  old  rituals  and  pass 
them  down  unimpaired  to  the  next  incumbent. 
I  shall  endeavor  to  make  duty  a  pleasure,  and 
pleasure  a  duty.  I  shall  remind  myself  that  I 
am  only  performing  the  service  to  humanity 
that  each  one  of  you  would  willingly  render 
if  you  were  in  my  place. 

"My  fellow-citizens,  I  thank  you  for  your 
amiable  confidence,  and  am  happy  to  accept 
the  nomination." 

There  were  some  who  criticized  this  speech 
on  the  ground  that  it  was  too  academic.  It  was 
remembered  that  Mr.  Bleak  had  at  one  time 
been  a  school-teacher,  and  his  opponents  were 
quick  to  raise  the  cry  "What  can  a  schoolmas 
ter  know  about  liquor  ?"  It  was  said  that  Mr. 
Bleak  was  too  scholarly,  too  aloof,  too  cold 
blooded:  that  his  interest  in  booze  was  merely 
philosophical,  that  he  would  be  incompetent  to 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  139 

Seal  with  the  practical  problems  of  actual 
drinking:  that  he  would  surround  himself  with 
drinks  that  would  be  mere  puppets,  subservient 
entirely  to  his  own  purposes.  The  adherents 
of  Jerry  Purplevein,  the  nominee  of  the  other 
party,  made  haste  to  assert  that  Bleak  was  not 
a  drinker  at  all  but  was  a  tool  of  the  Chuff 
machine.  Jerry  was  a  former  bartender  who 
had  been  pining  away  in  the  ice-cream  cone 
business.  Huge  banners  appeared  across  the 
streets,  showing  highly  colored  pictures  of  Mr. 
Purplevein  plying  his  original  profession,  with 
the  legend : 

RALLY   ROUND   THE    FLAGON 
VOTE  FOR 

PURPLEVEIN 

THE  PRACTICAL  MAN 

One  of  the  exciting  features  of  the  campaign 
was  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  Woman's 
Party,  which  launched  an  ably-conducted  boom 
for  a  Woman  Souse  and  nominated  Miss 
Cynthia  Absinthe  as  its  candidate.  The  idea 
of  having  a  woman  elected  to  this  responsible 
office  was  disconcerting  to  many  citizens,  but 


140  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

Miss  Absinthe's  record  (as  outlined  by  her 
publicity  headquarters)  compelled  respect. 
3he  was  reputed  to  have  been  a  passionate  and 
tumultuous  consumer  of  sloe  gin,  and  thou 
sands  of  women  in  white  bartenders'  coats 
marched  with  banners  announcing: 

ABSINTHE  MAKES  THE 
HEART  GROW  FONDER 
VOTE  FOR  CYNTHIA 

and 

OUR  SLOGAN 
IS    SLOE    GIN 

For  a  while  there  was  quite  a  probability  that 
the  male  vote  would  be  so  split  by  Bleak  and 
Purplevein  that  Miss  Absinthe  would  come  in 
ahead.  But  at  the  height  of  the  campaign  she 
was  found  in  a  pharmacy  drinking  a  maple  nut 
foam.  After  this  her  cause  declined  rapidly, 
and  even  her  most  ardent  partisans  admitted 
that  she  would  never  be  more  than  an  Inter 
mittent  Souse. 

Purplevein's  followers,  in  their  desperate 
efforts  to  discredit  Bleak,  overplayed  their 
hand  (as  "practical  politicians"  always  do). 
The  sagacious  Quimbleton  outmaneuvered 
them  at  every  turn.  Moderate  drinkers  rallied 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  141 

round  Bleak.  Moreover,  the  Bleak  party  had 
an  irresistible  assistant  in  the  person  of  Miss 
Chuff,  who  put  her  trances  unreservedly  at 
Dunraven's  disposal.  In  this  way  Quimbleton 
was  able  to  produce  his  candidate  before  a 
monster  mass  meeting  at  the  Opera  House  in  a 
state  of  becoming  exhilaration.  This  forever 
put  an  end  to  the  rumor  that  Bleak  was  not  a 
practical  man.  Miss  Chuff  also  campaigned 
strenuously  among  the  women,  where  Purple- 
vein  (being  a  bachelor)  was  at  a  disadvantage. 
"Vote  for  Bleak/'  cried  Miss  Chuff— "He  has 
a  wife  to  help  him."  Purplevein's  argument 
that  the  office  of  Perpetual  Souse  should  be  an 
entirely  stag  affair  fell  dead  before  Theodo- 
linda's  glowing  description  of  the  Hostess 
House  which  Mrs.  Bleak  would  conduct  next 
door  to  the  little  temple  which  was  to  be  erected 
by  the  government  for  the  successful  candi 
date. 

Despite  the  exhaustion  of  the  campaign, 
Bleak  stood  it  well.  Quimbleton,  knowing  the 
disastrous  effects  of  over-confidence,  kept  his 
man  at  fighting  edge  by  a  little  judicious  pes 
simism  now  and  then,  and  rumors  of  the  popu 
larity  of  Purplevein  among  the  hard  drinkers. 
Day  after  day  Quimbleton  and  Miss  Chuff, 


142  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

after  a  little  psychic  communing,  would  prop 
the  editor  among  cushions  in  the  big  gray 
limousine  and  spin  him  about  the  city  and 
suburbs  to  bow,  smile,  say  a  few  automatic 
words  and  pass  on.  Over  the  car  floated  a  big 
banner  with  the  words:  Let  Bleak  Do  Your 
Drinking  For  You:  He  Knows  How.  The  un 
happy  Purplevein,  who  had  to  do  his  election 
eering  in  a  state  of  chill  sobriety,  was  aghast 
to  see  the  beaming  and  gently  flushed  face  of 
his  rival  radiating  cheer.  At  the  eleventh  hour 
he  tried  to  change  his  tactics  and  plastered  the 
billboards  with  immense  posters : 

BLEAK  DOESN'T  NEED  THE  JOB- 
HE'S  SOUSED  ALREADY 

This  line  of  argument  might  perhaps  have  been 
powerful  if  adopted  earlier,  but  by  that  time 
the  agreeable  vision  of  Bleak's  ascetic  features 
wreathed  in  a  faintly  spiritual  benignance  was 
already  firmly  fixed  in  the  public  imagination. 
The  little  celluloid  button  showing  his  trans 
figured  and  endearing  smile  was  worn  on  mil 
lions  of  lapels.  As  one  walked  down  the  street 
one  met  that  little  badge  hundreds  of  times, 
and  the  mere  repetition  of  the  tenderly  exhil 
arated  face  seemed  to  many  a  citizen  a  beau- 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  143 

tiful  and  significant  thing.  Men  are  altruistic 
at  heart.  They  saw  that  Bleak  would  make  of 
this  high  office  a  richly  eloquent  and  appealing" 
stewardship.  They  were  reconciled  to  their 
own  abstinence  in  the  thought  that  the  dreams 
and  desires  of  their  own  hearts  would  be  so 
nobly  fulfilled  by  him.  Alcohol  was  gone  for 
ever,  and  perhaps  it  was  as  well.  They  them 
selves  were  conscious  of  having  abused  its  sa 
cred  powers.  But  now,  in  the  person  of  this 
chosen  representative,  all  that  was  lovely  and 
laughable  in  the  old  customs  would  be  conse 
crated  and  enshrined  forever.  Men  who  had 
known  Bleak  in  the  days  of  his  employment  on 
the  Balloon  recollected  that  even  during  the 
cares  and  efforts  of  his  profession  little  inci 
dents  had  occurred  that  might  have  shown 
(had  they  been  shrewd  enough  to  notice)  how 
faithfully  he  was  preparing  himself  for  the 
great  responsibility  destiny  held  concealed. 

The  day  of  the  election  was  declared  a  na 
tional  festival.  The  Chuff  government,  a  good 
deal  startled  by  the  universal  seriousness  and 
enthusiasm  shown  in  the  enrollment  at  the  pri 
maries,  was  disposed  (in  secret)  to  regard  the 
office  of  Perpetual  Souse  as  a  helpful  compro 
mise  on  a  vexed  question.  The  war  against 


144  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

Nature  had  been  only  partially  successful:  in 
deed  the  chuff  chief -of -staff  declared  that  Na 
ture  had  not  learned  her  lesson  yet,  and  that 
some  irreconcilable  berries  and  fruits  were  still 
waging  a  guerilla  fermentation,  thus  rupturing 
the  armistice  terms.  The  countryside  had  been 
ravaged,  all  the  Chautauqua  lecturers  were 
hoarse,  industry  was  at  a  standstill,  misery  and 
despair  were  widespread.  Even  the  indomit 
able  Chuff  himself  was  a  little  nonplussed. 
Better  (he  thought)  one  man  indubitably,  de 
corously,  publicly,  and  legally  drunk,  than  mil 
lions  of  citizens  privily  attempting  to  cajole 
raisins  and  apples  into  illicit  sprightliness.  / 
The  citizens  went  to  the  polls  in  a  mood  of 
exalted  self-denial.  They  knew  that  they  were 
voting  away  their  own  rights,  but  they  also 
knew  that  their  private  ideals  would  be  more 
than  realized  in  the  legalized  frenzy  of  their 
representative.  Bleak,  appearing  on  the  bal 
cony  of  his  hotel,  smiled  affectionately  on  the 
loyal  faces  that  cheered  him  from  below.  He 
was  deeply  moved.  To  Quimbleton  (who  was 
supporting  him  from  behind)  he  said:  "Their 
generosity  is  wonderful.  I  shall  try  to  be 
worthy  of  their  confidence.  I  hope  I  may  have 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  145 

strength  to  put  into  practice  the  frustrated 
desires  of  these  noble  people." 

The  result  of  the  polling  was  to  be  an 
nounced  by  a  searchlight  from  the  City  Hall. 
A  white  beam  sweeping  eastward  would  mean 
the  election  of  Purplevein.  A  white  beam 
sweeping  westward  would  mean  the  triumph  of 
Miss  Absinthe.  A  steady  red  beam  cast  up 
ward  toward  the  zenith  would  indicate  the  vic 
tory  of  Bleak. 

At  ten  o'clock  that  night  a  scream  of  cheers 
burst  from  millions  of  people  packed  along 
the  city  streets.  A  clear,  glowing  shaft  of 
red  light  leaped  upward  into  the  sky.  Dun- 
raven  Bleak  had  been  elected  Perpetual  Souse. 

Purplevein,  who  was  rather  a  decent  sort, 
hastened  to  Bleak's  hotel  to  offer  his  congratu 
lations.  Bleak,  who  was  sitting  quietly  with 
Mrs.  Bleak,  Quimbleton  and  Theodolinda, 
greeted  him  calmly.  Poor  Purplevein  was  very 
much  broken  up,  and  Quimbleton  and  Theodo 
linda,  in  the  goodness  of  their  hearts,  arranged 
a  quiet  little  seance  for  his  benefit.  They  all 
sat  their  drinking  psychic  Three-Star  in  honor 
of  the  event.  As  Quimbleton  said,  helping 
Purplevein  back  to  his  motor: — "Hitch  your 
flagon  to  a  Star." 


CHAPTER  XJ 
E  PLURIBUS  UNUM: 

VIRGIL  and  Theodolinda  were   return 
ing  from  their  honeymoon,  which  they 
had    spent   touring   in   Quimbleton's 
Spad  plane.    They  had  been  in  South  America 
most  of  the  time,  where  they  found  charming 
hosts  eager  to  console  them  for  the  tragical 
developments  in  the  northern  continent. 

It  was  a  superb  morning  in  early  autumn 
when  they  were  flying  homeward.  Beneath 
them  lay  the  green  and  level  meadows  of  New 
Jersey,  and  the  dusky  violet  blue  of  the  ocean 
shading  to  a  translucent  olive  where  long 
ridges  of  foam  crumbled  upon  pale  beaches. 
They  turned  inland,  flying  leisurely  to  admire 
the  beauty  of  the  scene.  The  mounting  sun 
spread  a  golden  shimmer  over  woods  and  corn- 
stubble.  White  roads  ran  like  ribbons  across 
the  landscape.  Quimbleton  glided  gently 

downward,  intending  to  skim  low  over  the  tree- 

146 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  147 

tops  so  that  his  bride  might  enjoy  the  rich  love 
liness  of  the  view. 

Suddenly  the  great  plane  dipped  sharply, 
tilted,  and  very  nearly  fell  into  a  side-slip. 
Quimbleton  was  just  able  to  pull  her  up  again 
and  climbed  steeply  to  a  safer  altitude.  He 
looked  at  his  dashboard  dials  and  indicators 
with  a  puzzled  face.  "Very  queer,"  he  said  to 
Theodolinda  through  the  speaking  tube,  "the 
air  here  has  very  little  carrying  power.  It 
seems  extraordinarily  thin.  You  might  think 
we  were  flying  in  a  partial  vacuum." 

From  the  behavior  of  the  plane  it  was  evi-» 
dent  that  some  curious  atmospheric  condition 
was  prevailing.  There  seemed  to  be  a  large 
hole  or  pocket  in  the  air,  and  in  spite  of  his 
best  efforts  the  pilot  was  unable  to  get  on  even 
wing.  Finally,  fearing  to  lapse  into  a  tail  spin, 
he  planed  down  to  make  a  landing.  Beneath 
them  was  a  beautiful  green  lawn  surrounded 
by  groves  of  trees.  In  the  middle  of  this  lawn 
they  struck  gently,  taxied  across  the  smooth 
turf,  and  came  to  a  stop  beneath  a  splendid  oak. 
Quimbleton  assisted  his  wife  to  get  out,  and 
they  sat  down  for  a  few  minutes'  rest  under 
the  tree. 


148  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

:"WHat  a  heavenly  spot !"  cried  Theodolinda* 
:"I  wonder  where  we  are?" 

"Somewhere  in  New  Jersey/'  said  her  hus 
band.  "I  don't  understand  what  was  the  mat 
ter  with  the  air.  It  didn't  act  according  to 
Hoyle." 

They  gazed  about  them  in  some  surprise  at 
the  opulent  beauty  of  the  scene.  It  seemed  to 
be  a  kind  of  park,  laid  out  in  lawns,  gardens 
and  shrubbery,  with  groves  of  old  trees  here 
and  there.  A  little  artificial  lake  twinkled  in 
a  hollow. 

They  happened  to  be  gazing  upward  when  a 
small  round  ball  of  tawny  color  fell  from  the 
tree.  It  was  a  robin.  Folded  solidly  for  sleep, 
he  fell  unresisting  by  the  flutter  of  a  wing, 
turning  over  and  over  gently  until  he  struck 
the  turf  with  the  tiniest  of  soft  thuds.  He 
bounced  slightly,  rolled  a  little  distance,  and 
settled  motionless  in  the  grass. 

Quimbleton,  amazed,  stooped  over  the  fallen 
bird,  supposing  it  to  be  dead.  Without  lifting 
it  from  the  ground  he  withdrew  its  head  from 
under  its  wing.  The  bright  eye  unlidded  and 
gazed  at  him  sleepily.  Then  the  bird  closed  its 
eye  with  a  certain  weary  resignation,  put  its 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  149 

head  back  under  its  wing,  and  relaxed  com 
fortably  in  the  grass. 

Quimbleton  was  no  very  acute  student  of 
nature,  but  this  seemed  very  odd  to  him.  And 
then,  examining  the  lower  limbs  of  the  tree, 
he  uttered  an  exclamation.  He  swung  him 
self  up  into  the  oak  and  shook  one  of  the 
branches.  Five  other  birds  plopped  comfort 
ably  into  the  grass  and  rested  as  easily  as  the 
first.  He  examined  them  one  by  one.  They 
were  all  sound  asleep. 

"Most  amazing!''  he  said.  "My  dear,  we 
will  have  to  take  up  nature  study.  I  am  really 
ashamed  of  my  ignorance.  I  always  thought 
that  owls  were  the  only  birds  that  slept  by  day." 

Theodolinda  was  looking  at  the  five  small 
bodies.  She  raised  one  of  them  gently,  and 
sniffed  gingerly. 

"Virgil,"  she  said  solemnly,  "this  is  not 
mere  slumber.  These  birds  are  drunk !" 

Quimbleton  was  about  to  speak  when  a 
grasshopper  went  by  like  an  airplane,  zooming 
in  a  twenty-foot  leap.  A  bee  sagged  along 
heavily  in  an  irregular  zig-zag,  and  a  cater 
pillar,  more  agile  and  purposeful  than  any 
caterpillar  they  had  ever  seen,  staggered  swift 
ly  across  a  carpet  of  moss. 


150  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

The  same  thought  struck  them  simultane 
ously,  and  at  that  moment  Theodolinda  noticed 
a  small  white  signboard  affixed  to  a  tree-trunk 
in  the  grove.  They  ran  to  it,  and  saw  in  neat 
lettering  : 


"Bless  me!"  cried  Quimbleton.  "What  a 
stroke  of  luck!  You  know  old  Bleak  wrote  us 
when  we  were  in  Rio  that  he  had  been  installed 
in  his  temple,  but  he  didn't  say  where  it  was. 
£,et's  toddle  up  and  have  a  look  at  him.  That's 
why  the  bus  acted  so  queerly.  No  wonder: 
we  were  probably  flying  in  alcohol  vapor." 

They  walked  through  the  grove  and  emerged 
upon  a  lawn  that  sloped  gently  upward.  At 
the  brow  stood  a  beautiful  little  temple  of 
Greek  architecture.  As  they  approached  they 
read,  carved  into  the  marble  architrave  : 

JEDES  TEMULENTI  PERPETUI 
E  PLURIBUS  UNUM 

The  little  porch,  under  the  marble  columns, 
was  cool  and  shady.  A  signboard  said  :  Visit 
ing  Hours,  Noon  to  Midnight.  Quimbleton 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  15* 

looked  at  his  watch.  "It's  not  noon  yet,"  he 
said,  "but  as  we're  old  friends  I  dare  say  he'll 
be  willing  to  see  us." 

Pushing  through  a  slatted  swinging  door 
of  beautifully  carved  bronze,  they  found  them 
selves  in  a  charmingly  furnished  reference  li 
brary.  There  were  lounges  and  deep  leather 
chairs,  and  ash  trays  for  smokers.  Quimble- 
ton,  who  was  something  of  a  bookworm,  ran 
his  eye  along  the  shelves.  "A  very  neat  idea," 
he  said.  "They  have  collected  a  little  library 
of  all  the  standard  works  on  drink.  This 
should  be  of  great  value  to  future  historians 
and  researchers." 

Through  another  swinging  door  they  found 
the  central  shrine. 

It  was  circular  in  shape,  illuminated  through 
a  clear  skylight.  Under  the  rotunda  was  a 
low,  broad  marble  counter,  surmounted  by  a 
gleaming  mirror  and  a  noble  array  of  bottles, 
flasks,  decanters,  goblets  and  glasses  of  every 
size.  The  pale  yellow  of  white  wines,  the  ruby 
of  claret,  the  tawny  brown  of  port,  the  green 
and  violet  and  rose  of  various  liqueurs,  spark 
led  in  their  appointed  vessels.  In  front  of 
this  altar  stood  a  three-foot  mahogany  bar, 
with  its  scrolled  rim  and  diminutive  brass  rail, 


152  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

all  complete.  A  red  velvet  cord  hung  from 
brass  posts  separated  it  from  the  open  floor. 

A  series  of  mural  paintings,  in  the  vivid 
coloring  and  superb  technique  of  Maxfield  Par- 
rish,  adorned  the  walls  of  the  room.  They 
portrayed  the  history  of  Alcohol  from  the  dawn 
of  time  down  to  the  summer  of  1919.  A  space 
for  one  more  painting  was  lefr  blank,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Quimbleton  concluded  that  the  artist 
was  still  at  work  upon  the  final  panel. 

An  attendant  in  white  was  polishing  glasses 
behind  the  tiny  bar.  He  was  an  elderly  man 
with  a  pink  clean-shaven  face  and  the  initials 
P.  S.  were  embroidered  on  the  collar  of  his 
starched  jacket.  There  was  an  air  of  evident 
pride  in  his  bearing  as  he  listened  to  their  ex 
clamations  of  admiration. 

"Your  first  visit,  sir?"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  said  Quimbleton.  "I  must  confess  I 
had  no  idea  it  would  be  as  fine  as  this.  What 
time  does  Mr.  Bleak  get  in?" 

"He  usually  opens  up  with  a  nip  of  Scotch 
about  eleven-thirty,"  said  the  bartender.  "Just 
so  as  to  get  up  a  little  circulation  before  open 
ing  time.  He's  got  a  hard  afternoon  before 
him  to-day,"  he  added. 

"How  do  you  mean?"  said  Quimbleton. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  153 

"One  of  the  excursion  trains  coming.  The 
railroad  runs  cheap  excursions  here  three  days 
a  week,  and  the  crowds  is  enormous.  When 
there's  a  bunch  like  that  there's  always  a  lot 
wants  Mr.  Bleak  to  take  some  special  drink 
they  used  to  be  partial  to,  just  to  recall  old 
times.  Of  course,  being  what  you  might  call 
a  servant  of  the  public,  he  doesn't  like  not  to 
oblige.  But  I  doubt  whether  he's  got  the  con 
stitution  to  stand  it  long.  The  other  day  the 
Mint  Julep  Veterans  of  Kentucky  held  a  me 
morial  day  here,  and  Mr.  Bleak  had  to  sink 
fifteen  juleps  to  satisfy  them.  I  tell  him  not 
to  push  himself  too  far,  but  he's  still  pretty  new 
at  the  job.  He  likes  to  go  over  the  top  every 
day."  ; 

"Your  face  is  very  familiar,"  said  Theodo- 
linda.  "Where  have  we  seen  you  before?" 

"I  wondered  if  you'd  recognize  me,"  said 
the  bartender.  "I've  shaved  off  my  mustache. 
I'm  Jerry  Purplevein.  When  I  was  turned 
down  in  that  election  I  thought  this  would  be 
the  next  best  thing.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it's 
better.  I  don't  really  care  for  the  stuff;  I  just 
like  to  see  it  around.  Miss  Absinthe  felt  the 
same  way.  She's  head  stewardess  up  to  the 
Hostess  House." 


154  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

"It  seems  to  me  I  used  to  see  you  somewhere 
in  New  York,"  said  Quimbleton. 

"I  was  head  bar  at  the  Hotel  Pennsylvania/' 
said  Jerry.  "We  had  the  finest  bar  in  the 
world,  had  only  been  running  a  couple  of 
months  when  prohibition  come  in.  They 
turned  it  into  a  soda  fountain.  Ah,  that  was 
a  tragedy !  But  this  is  a  grand  job.  Govern 
ment  service,  you  see :  sure  pay,  tony  surround 
ings,  and  what  you  might  call  steady  custom. 
Mr.  Bleak  is  as  nice  a  gentleman  to  mix  'em  for 
as  I  ever  see." 

"But  what  is  this  for?"  asked  Theodolinda, 
pointing  to  a  beautiful  marble  cash  register. 
"Surely  Mr.  Bleak  doesn't  have  to  buy  his 
drinks?" 

"No,  ma'am,"  said  Jerry,  "but  he  likes  to 
have  'em  rung  up  same  as  customary.  He  says 
it  makes  it  seem  more  natural.  Here  he  is 
now!" 

Jerry  flew  to  attention  behind  the  three-foot 
bar,  and  they  turned  to  see  their  friend  enter 
through  the  bronze  swinging  doors. 

"Well,  well!"  cried  Bleak.  "This  is  a  de 
lightful  surprise!" 

He  was  dressed  in  a  lounging  suit  of  fine 
texture,  and  while  he  seemed  a  little  thinner 


THIS  IS  A  GRAND  JOB.1  SAID 
JERRY,  f  GOVERNMENT  SERVICE.  YOV 
SEE." 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  157 

and  paler,  and  His  eyes  a  little  weary,  he  was  in 
excellent  spirits. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "you're  just  in  time  for  a 
bite  of  lunch.  Jerry,  what's  on  the  counter 
to-day?" 

Jerry  bustled  proudly  over  to  the  free-lunch 
counter,  whipped  off  the  steam-covers,  and  dis 
closed  a  fragrant  joint  of  corned  beef  nestling 
among  cabbages  and  boiled  potatoes.  With  the 
delight  of  the  true  artist  he  seized  a  long  nar 
row  carving  knife,  gave  it  a  few  passes  along 
a  steel,  and  sliced  off  generous  portions  of  the 
beef  onto  plates  bearing  the  P.  S.  monogram. 
This  they  supplemented  with  other  selections 
from  the  liberally  supplied  free-lunch  counter. 
Soft,  crumbling  orange  cheese,  pickles,  smoked 
sardines,  chopped  liver,  olives,  pretzels — all  the 
now- for  gotten  appetizers  were  laid  out  on 
broad  silver  platters. 

"I  wish  I  could  offer  you  a  drink,"  said 
Bleak,  "but  as  you  know,  it  would  be  uncon 
stitutional.  With  your  permission,  I  shall  have 
to  have  something.  My  office  hours  begin 
shortly,  and  some  one  might  come  in." 

He  took  up  his  station  at  the  little  bar  be 
hind  the  velvet  cord,  and  slid  his  left  foot  onto 
the  miniature  rail.  Jerry,  with  the  air  of  an 


158  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

artist  about  to  resume  work  on  his  favorite 
masterpiece,  stood  expectant. 

"A  little  Scotch,  Jerry/'  said  Bleak. 

In  the  manner  reminiscent  of  an  elder  day 
Jerry  wiped  away  imaginary  moisture  from  the 
mahogany  with  a  deft  circular  movement  of  a 
white  cloth.  Turning  to  the  gleaming  pyramid 
of  glassware,  he  set  out  the  decanter  of  whis 
key,  a  small  empty  glass,  and  a  twin  glass  two- 
thirds  full  of  water.  His  motions  were  elab 
orately  careless  and  automatic,  but  he  was 
plainly  bursting  with  joy  to  be  undergoing 
such  expert  and  affectionate  scrutiny. 

Bleak  poured  out  three  fingers  of  whiskey, 
and  held  up  the  baby  tumbler. 

"Here's  to  the  happy  couple!"  he  cried,  and 
drank  it  in  one  swift,  practiced  gesture.  He 
then  swallowed  about  a  tablespoon ful  of  the 
water.  Jerry  removed  the  utensils,  again 
wiped  the  immaculate  bar,  and  rang  the  cash 
less  cash-register.  The  Perpetual  Souse  smiled 
happily. 

'That's  how  it's  done,"  he  said.  "Do  you 
remember?" 

"We're  just  back  from  South  America,"  said 
Quimbleton. 

"Some  of  the  boys  from  the  old  Balloon  office 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  159 

were  in  here  the  other  day,"  said  Bleak.  "I'm 
afraid  it  was  rather  too  much  for  them — in 
an  emotional  way,  I  mean.  I  tossed  off  a  few 
for  their  benefit,  and  one  of  them — the  cartoon 
ist  he  used  to  be,  perhaps  you  remember  him — • 
fainted  with  excitement/' 

"Well,  how  do  you  like  the  job?"  said  Quim- 
bleton. 

Bleak  did  not  answer  this  directly.  Making 
an  apology  to  Jerry  and  promising  to  be  back 
in  a  few  minutes,  he  escorted  his  visitors  round 
the  temple  and  gave  them  some  of  the  picture 
postcards  of  himself  that  were  sold  to  souvenir 
hunters  at  five  cents  each.  He  showed  them 
the  cafeteria  for  the  convenience  of  visitors, 
the  Hostess  House  (where  they  found  Mrs. 
Bleak  comfortably  installed),  the  ice-making 
machinery,  the  private  brewery,  and  the 
motor-truck  used  to  transport  supplies.  In  a 
corner  of  the  garden  they  found  the  children 
playing. 

"It's  a  good  thing  the  children  enjoy  playing 
with  empty  bottles,"  said  Bleak.  "It's  getting 
to  be  quite  a  problem  to  know  what  to  do  with 
them.  I'm  using  some  of  them  to  make  a  path 
across  the  lawn,  bury  them  bottom  up,  you 
know. 


160  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

''But  you  ask  how  I  like  it?  I  would  never 
admit  it  before  Jerry,  because  the  good  fellow 
expects  more  of  me  than  I  am  able  to  fulfill, 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact  this  is  hardly  a  one-man 
job.  There  ought  to  be  at  least  seven  of  us, 
each  to  go  on  duty  one  day  a  week.  No — you 
see,  being  a  kind  of  government  museum,  I 
don't  even  get  Sundays  off  because  lots  of  peo 
ple  can  only  get  here  that  day.  Next  after 
Mount  Vernon  and  Independence  Hall,  I  get 
more  visitors  than  any  other  national  shrine. 
And  almost  all  of  them  expect  me  to  have  a  go 
at  their  favorite  drink  while  they're  watching 
me.  Being  what  you  might  call  the  most  pub 
lic  spirited  man  in  the  country,  I  have  to  oblige 
them  as  much  as  possible.  But  I  doubt  whether 
I  shall  be  a  candidate  for  reelection. 

"I  think  the  government  has  rather  overesti 
mated  my  capacity,"  he  continued.  "They  im 
port  a  shipload  of  stuff  from  abroad  every 
month,  and  send  an  auditor  here  to  check  over 
my  empties.  I've  been  hard  put  to  it  to  get 
away  with  all  the  stuff.  I've  had  to  fall  back 
on  your  old  plan  of  using  wine  to  irrigate  the 
garden.  It's  had  rather  a  dissipating  effect  on 
the  birds  and  insects,  though.  Really,  you 
ought  to  spend  an  evening  here  some  time. 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  i6r 

The  birds  sing  all  night  long:  they  have  to 
sleep  it  off  in  the  morning.  A  robin  with  a 
hang-over  is  one  of  the  funniest  things  in  the 
world." 

"We  saw  one !"  cried  Theodolinda.  "He  was 
more  than  hanging  over — he  had  fallen  right 
off!" 

"There's  a  butterfly  here,"  said  Bleak— 
"Rather  a  friend  of  mine,  who  can  give  a  bum 
ble  bee  the  knock-out  after  he  gets  his  drop  of 
rum.  I've  seen  him  chase  a  wasp  all  over  the 
lot." 

From  the  temple  came  the  sound  of  chimes 
striking  twelve,  and  down  in  the  valley  they 
heard  the  whistle  of  a  train. 

"There's  the  excursion  train  leaving  Souse 
Junction,"  said  Bleak.  "I  must  get  back  to 
the  bar!" 

They  returned  to  the  shrine,  and  Bleak  en 
tered  his  little  enclosure. 

"Jerry,"  he  said,  "the  crowd  will  soon  be 
here.  I  must  get  busy.  What  do  you  recom 
mend?" 

"Better  stick  to  the  Scotch,"  said  Jerry,  and 
put  the  decanter  on  the  mahogany.  Bleak 
drank  two  slugs  hastily,  and  turned  to  his 
friends  with  an  almost  wistful  air. 


162  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

"Come  again  and  stay  longer,"  he  said.  "I 
see  so  many  strangers,  I  get  homesick  for  a 
friendly  face."  He  called  Quimbleton  aside. 
"Does  Mrs.  Quimbleton  keep  up  her  trances?" 
he  whispered. 

"Not  recently,"  said  Virgil.  "You  see,  in 
South  America  there  was  no  necessity — but 
when  we  get  settled " 

"You  are  a  lucky  fellow,"  whispered  Bleak. 
"All  the  enjoyment  without  any  of  the  formal 
ities!"  And  he  added  aloud,  grasping  their 
hands,  "Next  time,  come  in  the  evening.  A 
man  in  my  line  of  work  is  hardly  at  his  best 
before  nightfall." 

As  they  walked  back  to  the  plane,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Quimbleton  saw  the  excursionists,  a  thou 
sand  or  so,  hastening  through  the  park  on 
foot  and  in  huge  sight-seeing  cars  where  men 
with  megaphones  were  roaring  comments. 
One  group  of  pedestrians  bore  a  large  banner 
lettered  EGG  NOG  MEMORIAL  ASSOCIA 
TION  OF  CAMDEN,  N.  J. 

"Poor  Mr.  Bleak!"  said  Theodolinda.  "On 
top  of  all  that  Scotch!" 

When  they  took  the  air  again  they  circled 
over  the  temple  at  a  safe  height.  They  could 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY   163 

see  the  crowd  gathered  densely  round  the  little 
white  columns.  Virgil  shut  off  the  motor  for 
a  moment,  and  even  at  that  distance  they  could 
hear  the  sound  of  cheers. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ITJS  A  LONG  WORM  THAT  HAS  NO  TURNING 

BISHOP  CHUFF  sat  sourly  in  his  office 
and  sighed  for  more  worlds  to  canker. 
Round  the  room  stood  the  tall  filing 
cases  containing  card  indexes  of  prohibited 
offences,  and  he  looked  gloomily  over  the 
crowded  drawers  in  the  vain  hope  of  finding 
something  that  had  been  overlooked.  He 
pulled  out  a  drawer  at  random — Schedule  K- 
36,  Minor  Social  Offenses — and  ran  his  embit 
tered  eye  over  a  card.  It  was  marked  Conver 
sational  Felonies,  and  began  thus: 

Arguing 

Blandishing 

Buffoonery 

Contradicting 

Demurring 

Ejaculating 

Exaggerating 

Facetiousness 

Giggling 

164 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  165 

Hemming  and  Hawing 

Implying 

Insisting 

Jesting 

Each  item  also  referred  to  another  card  on 
which  the  penalty  was  noted  and  legal  test 
cases  summarized. 

"No,"  he  brooded,  "there  is  nothing  left." 
Even  the  most  loyal  of  the  Bishop's  Staff 
admitted  that  he  was  far  from  well,  and  it  was 
decided  that  he  ought  to  take  a  vacation.  He 
himself  concurred  in  this,  and  as  the  home  re 
sorts  were  no  longer  places  of  mirth  and  glee, 
he  determined  to  go  to  Europe.  This  would 
have  the  added  advantage  of  enabling  him  to 
spend  some  time  conferring  with  prohibition 
leaders  abroad  as  to  ways  and  means  of  con 
verting  Europe  to  his  schemes  of  reform. 
Everyone  in  the  office  showed  genuine  unsel 
fishness  in  making  plans  for  the  Bishop's  vaca 
tion,  and  he  was  urged  to  stay  away  as  long  as 
he  felt  he  could  be  spared.  Europe,  too,  was 
much  excited  over  the  prospect  of  his  coming, 
and  the  British  prime  minister  was  questioned 
on  the  subject  in  the  House  of  Commons.  For 
his  entertainment  on  the  voyage  a  set  of  twelve 
beautiful  folio  volumes,  bound  in  black  moroc- 


1 66  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

co,  were  prepared.  They  contained  a  digest  of 
prohibition  legislation  which  Chuff  had  been 
instrumental  in  having  put  on  the  statutes. 
For  the  first  time  in  years  the  Bishop  was 
cheered  as  he  passed  about  the  streets,  and  he 
realized  that  he  had  never  known  how  popular 
he  was  until  it  was  announced  that  he  was 
going  away. 

But  still  he  was  not  content.  One  morning, 
not  long  before  the  date  set  for  his  sailing,  he 
sat  gloomily  at  his  desk.  He  was  engaged  in 
making  his  will,  and  had  found  to  his  secret 
bitterness  that  after  bequeathing  a  few  per 
sonal  trinkets  to  the  office  staff  there  was  really 
no  one  to  whom  he  could  leave  the  bulk  of  his 
misfortune.  Theodolinda,  of  course,  he  had 
quite  cut  off  from  his  estate.  He  only  knew 
that  she  was  living  somewhere  with  the  de 
graded  Quimbleton,  carrying  on  a  little  psychic 
tavern  which  no  laws  could  reach,  in  a  state  of 
criminal  happiness. 

From  the  street,  far  beneath  his  open  win 
dow,  he  heard  the  clamor  of  a  police  patrol  and 
leaned  eagerly  over  the  sill  in  the  hope  of  see 
ing  something  that  would  cheer  his  black  mood. 
But  it  was  only  a  man  being  arrested  for  lean 
ing  against  a  lamp-post — a  rather  common 


IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY  167 

offence  at  that  time,  for  most  of  the  normal 
occupations  of  the  citizens  had  been  prohibited, 
and  they  mooned  about  the  highways  in  a  state 
of  listless  discontent.  But  then,  farther  down 
the  channel  of  the  street,  he  saw  something 
that  caught  his  eye.  A  group  of  people  were 
marching  with  flags  and  signs  toward  the  rail 
way  station.  Saturday  School  Picnic  to  Souse 
Temple,  he  read  on  a  banner.  He  noticed  that 
in  spite  of  all  the  laws  against  smiling  in  pub 
lic,  these  people  bore  a  look  of  suppressed  mer 
riment.  They  were  obviously  out  for  a  good 
time.  A  sudden  thought  struck  him. 

That  afternoon,  in  impenetrable  disguise, 
the  Bishop  paid  his  first  visit  to  the  Temple  of 
Dunraven  Bleak. 

The  next  morning,  when  his  subordinates 
came  to  see  him  about  the  final  plans  for  his 
departure,  they  were  horrified  to  find  him  sit 
ting  at  his  desk  wearing  in  the  recesses  of  his 
beard  what  would  have  been  called  (on  any 
other  man)  a  smile. 

"I  have  changed  my  mind,"  he  said.  "I  am 
not  going  away." 

They  cried  out  in  amazement,  and  pointed 
out  to  him  how  sorely  in  need  of  relaxation 
he  was. 


1 68  IN  THE  SWEET  DRY  AND  DRY 

"I  am  planning  relaxation,"  he  said,  and  that 
was  all  they  could  get  out  of  him. 

Later  in  the  day  a  confidential  messenger 
was  dispatched  to  the  private  printing  press  of 
the  Chuff  Organization,  bearing  the  text  of  a 
poster  which  was  found  broadcast  over  the 
whole  country  a  few  days  later.  It  ran  thus : 


AT  THE  NEXT  ELECTION 

For  Perpetual  Souse 

VOTE  FOR  CHUFF 

The  People's  Friend 


THE  END 


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